


Challenge Four: Banging Bedframes and Slumbering Sluts

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 108,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries submitted for voting for Challenge Four: Banging Bedframes and Slumbering Sluts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (with warnings)

**1.**  
 **Pairing: Merlin/Arthur**  
 **Warnings: none, unless excessive schmoopiness is a warning**

It takes about three dates before Merlin is unable to stop himself from throwing Arthur up against a wall and kissing the hell out of him.

Well, ‘dates’ is what Arthur calls them. He learned modern English from television, television and a spell, and now he rattles off words like he’s writing for a WB drama. After emerging from Avalon, Arthur had woken up in Merlin’s bed with a bit of a learning curve to surmount.

“Merlin,” Arthur says against his mouth, “not that I’m objecting, much to my surprise, but isn’t this a bit—soon?”

Merlin groans. “Arthur. Arthur,” he says as he sucks kisses down Arthur’s gorgeous neck, “I know you’re chivalric and trying to be a gentleman and while I appreciate that, I really, do—“ He lays into Arthur’s mouth like a starving man. “--Eleven hundred _years_.”

Arthur hesitates for about a half a second, then kisses Merlin soundly on the mouth. “Right, then. I know you have a bed. I haven’t been in it since I was soaking wet and unconscious, but—“

Merlin’s dragged him halfway down the hall, deterred only by his want to shed as many clothes as possible—

Arthur snickers when Merlin gets caught up in his trousers in the doorway. “Can’t you just—“ He flicks his wrist. “—magic them away?”

They haven’t talked about that part. Merlin flushes. “I could, but—“

Arthur comes to stand with him. “But what?”

Merlin searches his face. “Would it shock you to know I’ve been waiting for this day since before you were king?”

Arthur blinks. It does shock him. Except for how it doesn’t.

“No matter now,” he decides, nibbling at Merlin’s mouth. “We’ve got time, now, don’t we?”

Merlin’s relief is palpable. His arms come around Arthur, memorising skin and bones, and he tugs them down onto the bed. “We’ve got time,” he says as he lands on his back with Arthur between his thighs, “but I really, really, want you to fuck me tonight. First thing.”

Arthur feels his whole everything heat up. “You’re certain?”

Merlin almost laughs, but this is Arthur, Arthur the overly noble... “Yes. I’ve been certain for a long, long time.”

Arthur breathes in, a bit shakily, then nods. “Alright, but— But you have to show me. I’ve never—with a man, of course, and—“

Merlin silences him with a kiss. “Of course. Of course I will.” And he does; he slicks up their hands, guides Arthur’s fingers one at a time, until he’s full of them both and Arthur’s eyes are wild.

“Merlin—can I—I want—“

“What, Sire?”

But Arthur doesn’t answer, and Merlin is momentarily lost—then Arthur is flipping them over, putting his sure, huge hands on Merlin’s hips and letting Merlin sink down onto his cock. “Oh, fuck—“

And Merlin’s never felt anything like it, neither of them have. It’s aching with the space of time between them even while it’s healing the wounds they never thought would heal. In the end, they come together, which should really not be possible in such circumstance but then again—everything about them is impossible.

The thought makes Arthur grin, and gather Merlin closer. They breathe together for long moments, kissing what skin they can reach with soft, thoughtless kisses, until Merlin finally slides off, tidies them up, and settles them in.

Arthur would be on board with this, but— “Merlin, for God’s sake, how do you sleep in this bed?”

Merlin’s head comes up quickly enough that Arthur begins to suspect something is afoot. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act coy; it won’t work on me anymore.”

Merlin purses his lips. “Fine, I might have an answer but I won’t give it to you until you tell me what you mean.”

Arthur sighs. “Glad to know a millennium hasn’t made you less annoying.”

“Nor you less of a prat.”

“But I _mean_ , of course, that there is something large and awkward underneath this clearly shoddy mattress, and I can’t believe you ever—“

But Merlin is laughing, doubled over and guffawing. Arthur stares at him, flummoxed. “What the devil?”

“Arthur,” Merlin finally says through hiccoughs. “Arthur, I put a pea under the bed. Here.” And he says something unintelligible, and his eyes glow, and suddenly there’s a tiny pea in his hand, and the bed feels much less lumpy.

“Why ever would you do _that_?”

Merlin shakes his head and practically tackles Arthur to the bed. “I’ll explain it later.”

* * *

**2.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Mithian/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** D/s undertones

 

Gwen is curled up, sound asleep, between Mithian's legs when Morgana gets home. Mithian has her Kindle in one hand, the other occupied with petting Gwen's curls. Morgana can see the faint sheen of lube glistening on Gwen's thighs and between her ass cheeks, and wished desperately that she had been around earlier, to see Mithian stretch her open, careful and precise, all while making Gwen desperate for relief.

It was meant to be a fun night.

Morgana huffs under her breath, yanking at the buttons on her shirt. Fucking Uther and his fucking emergencies. Not that they are emergencies, not really. Uther just wants her and Arthur at his beck and call all the time.

"Gwen couldn't stay awake," Mithian says, putting away her Kindle as Morgana strips. "I assured her it was okay."

"Sorry I couldn't be here earlier." Morgana sheds her skirt, leaving her clothes on the floor, and climbs on the bed. "You know how Uther gets."

"We understand." Mithian stretches her legs, shifting Gwen slightly, who sleeps on, content and safe between the thighs of her girlfriend. "Gwen knew it would be a long night for you," she continues, and passes Morgana a harness. "She insisted you enjoy yourself, even if she was asleep."

The strap-on harness is Morgana's favorite, held on by black lace, and the dildo that goes with it is thick and solid, one of Gwen's favorites. Morgana's not sure if it's because Gwen likes how it stretches her or if she likes it because it's Morgana's favorite to use. The harness is also the only they have with a built in vibe that sits perfectly, letting Morgana get the best of both worlds.

Morgana slips the harness on, adjusting the straps easily. She's done this enough times that's almost second nature, and she's moving Gwen's legs, sliding between them, before she realizes it.

Gwen stirs, murmuring sleepily, but Mithian is there to soothe her, running fingers through her curls. Morgana likes it when Gwen is panting and moaning beneath her, begging to be allowed to come, but she doesn't want that tonight. 

"I let her orgasm earlier," Mithian says, when Gwen settles back down. "It only seemed fair when she was so good to me. So it's all about you."

Morgana parts Gwen's cheeks, tugging on the base on the plug still inside her girlfriend. It resists for a moment, then slides out with an obscene sound. The lube is still fresh, and Morgana slides two fingers inside, just to feel how Gwen's body clenches around her. In moments like this, Morgana wishes she had a real cock, wonders how Gwen would feel around her then.  
It takes no time at all for Morgana to lube the dildo and slide into Gwen's pliant body, leaning over to kiss Mithian at the same time. It's a sleepy kiss, soft and quiet like their kisses never are, much like the night around her, and Gwen's body beneath her. The pac she sets as she fucks Gwen is slow and steady. She's in no rush to get off, doesn't have to worry about teasing.

Mithian croons into Gwen's ear when they finally break apart, and Morgana focuses on that, and the deep, rhythmic breaths Gwen is taking. She doesn't wake, even as Morgana speeds up her thrusts.

"I'm going to fall asleep if you don't hurry," Mithian says finally, reaching out to tweak one of Morgana's nipples. It sends a shudder down Morgana's back and she shifts her legs, making the vibe pressing firmly against her clit. 

"You can sleep," Morgana responds. "I'll clean up when I'm done."

"Make sure you do." Mithian shifts beneath Gwen and Morgana stills for a moment, letting her get comfortable and rearrange Gwen. "Don't stay up all night."

Morgana leans in closer to press a kiss to Gwen's shoulder and Mithian's forehead. Mithian won't actually sleep, she knows, but it gives her the freedom to not take her time and not worry about anything. 

Morgana hates working late, but returning to her girlfriends, even when they're mostly asleep on her, makes the nights tolerable. 

* * *

**3.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

 

"Well, at least I know you weren't trying to stand me up." 

Merlin reaches for the cup of tea Arthur offers him and tries to snuggle himself down further into the duvet. "I'm not actually ill, you realize."

"Mmh." Arthur places his own tea on the side table, settles himself on the bed next to Merlin, and runs his palm over Merlin's bed-rumpled hair. "You sound pretty awful. Maybe I ought to be glad you missed my first three calls if you sounded worse than this when you woke up." 

Merlin's ear flush pink with embarrassment. "... just hay fever," he mumbles into his tea, "took my antihistamine tablet last night..." He lowers his mug to rub at his eyes and his nose. "In the middle of the night. Didn't think I'd actually oversleep, though. I was looking forward to breakfast." 

Between the quiet wistful tone in Merlin's voice and the huskiness still roughing it up, Arthur's heart does a little flip in his chest. Of all the places he ought to be right now, here is not one of them. Of all the appointments in his calendar, of all the events that have been planned for the past few months, of all the places that the Prince of Wales needs to be on this Tuesday morning, a small bedsit in a university town is most definitely not one of them. 

"That might be my fault, expecting you to be ready by six, when I have a meeting at ten." Arthur leans in to nuzzle against Merlin's ear, breathes in the bed-warm scent of his skin, and smiles when Merlin shrugs, then yawns. "Finish your tea," he murmurs, and takes the cup when Merlin's about ready to doze off against him.

Everything about the situation is ridiculously endearing, from Merlin's bleary expression to his chipped mugs for tea to his bare feet sticking out from under the duvet. Two months, one of which they spent bickering at each other over emails and texts, doesn't seem quite long enough to cause the fluttering warmth inside Arthur, but there it is. 

Ridiculous and endearing and inconvenient.

It doesn't matter, Arthur decides, and presses a kiss into Merlin's hair. He'll make it convenient. He'll rearrange the parts of his life that aren't planned out on a yearly calendar, he'll fit Merlin into the empty spaces and ask the best way he knows how to be fitted into the same spaces in Merlin's life. 

Because, really, this is what Arthur wants: to be sprawled out on Merlin's bed, half-dressed for the day, awake while Merlin's still sleep-mussed and bleary. He wants to start most of his mornings too early so he can press his face into Merlin's hair and slide his hand over Merlin's stomach to coax pleased murmurs from Merlin as he wakes up. 

Arthur rests his hand on Merlin's stomach to feel the rise and fall of his breath; when Merlin edges closer and nudges one of his bare feet against Arthur's, he slides his hand lower. Merlin's half-hard, and he arches with a tired sigh to press himself up closer to Arthur's hand. 

"Feels good," Merlin says, his voice still rough and tired, and sighs again as Arthur strokes his cock.

"You're hardly awake." 

Merlin makes a little sound at the back of his throat, sleepy pleasure and agreement, and shifts so his body is a line of warmth all along Arthur's body. He makes the sound again when Arthur strokes him to full hardness and rests his hand atop Arthur's when Arthur makes a move to tug down his boxers.

"Don't need to rush. Just..." He gives a little half shrug and rolls his hips to rub his cock up against Arthur's hand.

From there, Arthur gives what has to be the longest, laziest hand job. He keeps stroking Merlin through his boxers, until he's hard from touching Merlin and listening to his breath quicken. 

When Arthur finally touches him, skin to skin, Merlin gives a gasp that sounds as if it comes from somewhere deep inside. He arches and moans, and comes messily over his stomach and Arthur's hand. 

His eyes are bright when he turns to look at Arthur and his lips are warm and urgent when he presses them to Arthur's mouth. "Stay," he says, "stay all morning. Here, in bed, with me."

"Maybe longer," Arthur says. 

* * *

**4.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Dubcon /Noncon due to sleep

 

The golden-haired prince fought his way through the thicket of thorn trees, hacking at them with his second-best sword.

*Damn, no amount of sharpening is going to save this sword,* he thought. *I hope this princess is worth it.*

But then he felt guilty for complaining. He was the Crown Prince of Camelot, and he was sworn to protect those in need, particularly if they were of noble birth.

His name was Arthur, but he had overheard a couple of giggling maids saying that the people called him Prince Charming.

And charming he was, and polite, and the kingdom’s best warrior. His parents, Queen Ygraine and King Uther, constantly let him know how high their expectations were for him.

He was closer to his mother, and as he worked through the thicket he recalled that he had once confided to her that while all of the noble ladies he met were pleasant and nice to look at, he didn’t find them all that interesting. And he had even hinted to her that he had feelings for Lancelot that came close to The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name.

But Lance had married one of the serving girls in the castle, and Ygraine had assured him that when the time came, his heart would tell him the right thing to do.

“Always follow your heart, dearest,” she told him, and then kissed him on the cheek and said, “Aren’t you late for training? You always seem happiest when you are bashing things around with your friends.”

Pushing aside thoughts of how he was indeed happiest when he was hot and sweaty and rolling around in the dirt with well-muscled young men, Arthur finally reached the clearing where the princess lay on an elaborate bed. He marched purposefully up to where she lay, prepared to kiss her awake, and got the biggest shock of his life.

The Princess Emrys he had been sent to rescue was no princess. 

A _man_ lay on the raised bed.

Arthur was brave and loyal and handsome. But even his closest friends would have to concede that he was not the most flexible thinker in the kingdom.

He stood with his mouth open for a minute or two, then firmly clamped it shut and strode over to investigate the situation.

It was a charming scene. The man was laid out on the most elegant bed imaginable, with hangings of pure white silk and fine lace, and velvet bedcoverings with rich embroidery. The man looked young and comely, with black hair and pale skin. His lips were red and had a very appealing cupid’s bow. 

Regardless of the gender issue, this man was clearly in an unnatural sleep, and clearly needed kissing.

Arthur leaned over, making sure to arrange his cape artistically over the man’s body for maximum aesthetic impact, and touched his lips to the dark-haired man’s.

Nothing.

He kissed him more firmly.

Nothing.

Finally he gave him a deep kiss, slipping his tongue into the man’s lax mouth.

Still nothing.

Frustrated at being unable to complete his mission, the prince thought aloud. “Is there *something else*I’m supposed to kiss?"

He ran his eyes down the man’s body, and saw that there was a nice stiff erection under the man’s trousers.

_In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Arthur thought philosophically as he unbuttoned the trousers to reveal a formidable cock, purplish and handsome.

It looked delectable.

Arthur gave it a tentative lick, as if it were one of the ice lollies Cook used to make him when he was a boy.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt the sleeper’s body twitch. 

Encouraged, because he hadn’t hacked his way through all those brambles to go home without rescuing _someone_ , Arthur bent to his task.

He sucked in the tip of the man’s cock, then fed it into his mouth inch by inch, pulling back a bit when it hit the back of his throat.

Then he licked and sucked the shaft and swirled his tongue around the head with a good will, enjoying it much more than was probably appropriate for the circumstances.

He felt the hot rush of the man’s release on his tongue, and bravely swallowed it.

The man awoke, and he had the most gorgeous blue eyes. He smiled at Arthur.

Arthur announced grandly, “I am Prince Arthur of Camelot! Come away with me to my home!”

“I am Emrys,” the man answered.

And they lived happily ever after.

* * *

**5.**  
 **Pairing: Merlin/Arthur**  
 **Warnings: --**  
Arthur opens his eyes and has to blink several times against the glare of the sun. The river waters sparkle in the light, and a faint breeze blows in the trees, soothing.

“You’re late.”

Merlin’s sitting by the river, bare chested, breeches rolled up to his knees, his toes dipping in the water 

“Sorry,” Arthur says, sitting beside him and pulling off his tunic. “Had a few things to take care of before bed, didn’t think it would take this long.”

He’s suddenly pushed on his back, Merlin straddling his hips, grinding his groin lightly against Arthur’s.

“Someone’s eager,” Arthur says hands over Merlin’s chest. “Bit forward for a servant.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Merlin, what about the stocks?”

“Is this your way of asking if you can tie me up?”

Arthur laughs and lifts up his hips to match Merlin’s rhythm. He pulls Merlin down into a sweet kiss that quickly turns messy and urgent and rough. “Fuck,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I missed you.”

“Me too, me too,” Merlin says, warm against his jaw. “Gonna fuck you so hard.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and laughs, but it’s cut short by a particularly clever twist of Merlin’s hips. “I don’t think it’s entirely appropriate for princes to—Jesus fuck—to get fucked by their servant.” Arthur kisses Merlin’s collarbones, hands wide across his back, nails lightly scratching down along the bumps of Merlin’s spine, making him shiver.

“Nonsense,” Merlin say, lips against the corner of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur darts his tongue out to lick at the bow of his upper lip. “Princes love that. All day—fuck—all day they have to be in charge all manly and responsible and shit, so it’d make sense that—” Merlin’s groans and leans back, fingers fast and clumsy on Arthur’s laces, pulling out his hard cock, immediately licking at the head. “It’d make sense that they’d want someone to take care of them at night.”

Arthur raises himself up on his elbows, heat already pooling in the pit of his stomach, coiling tightly under his skin. It’s been too long and he’s not going to last. 

“Yeah?” he says, a bit breathless at the sight of Merlin’s mouth stretched wide around his cock, pale, long fingers wrapped around the base.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, pulling off with a wet popping sound. The wind feels cool against Arthur’s cock. “So, let me take care of you, _Sire_.”

Arthur snorts even as he’s panting harder and harder, Merlin’s hand working fast over him. Merlin slips his other hand between Arthur’s thighs, one finger slowly tracing the outside of his hole, making Arthur’s breath catch in his throat.

“I hate when you’re away,” Arthur says, staring at the sky.

“Two more weeks, that’s all.” Merlin kisses the inside of Arthur’s knee softly “Please tell me you programmed in lube,” he says. 

“In the saddle bags.” Arthur bucks his hips wanting—needing—Merlin’s mouth back on him.

“Good,” Merlin says, tongue flicking across Arthur’s balls. “Don’t want any of that other crap you had us used last time. You and your goddamn fantasies, I swear—”

“God fucking dammit, Merlin. Shut up and just suck me off already.”

Merlin smiles, trails the inside of Arthur’s thigh with soft, tender kisses that have Arthur _almost_ as breathless as when he takes Arthur’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard. Almost.

It doesn’t take long. It all builds too fast inside Arthur and he buries his hands into Merlin’s hair, closes his eyes against the sun, and comes with Merlin’s warm mouth around him, his fingers digging harshly into Arthur’s hips to keep them still.

Merlin licks and clean Arthur’s cock, making him twitch, before lying his head on Arthur’s stomach to catch his breath.

“What have you planned for us tonight?” he says.

Arthur tugs lightly on his ear. “First, you’re going to fuck me. Then we’re going to go to a tavern, get into a brawl, and be saved by an handsome, roguish bloke.”

Merlin lifts his head to look at him, a pleased glint in his eye. “Threesome?”

Arthur grins. There’s a sound to his right and he turns his head to see a deer drinking by the river, jerking back and forth, its body flickering in and out rapidly.

“I think there’s a glitch in your DreamSkype™,” Merlin says, and Arthur groans. It’s the third time in as many months.

“I’ll have it checked tomorrow,” he says. “Now, peasant, make good on your promise.”

* * *

**6.**  
 **Pairing:** Elena/Vivian  
 **Warnings:** dub-con (sex starts while one character is sleeping), implied metaconsent

"Vivian?" Elena calls as she walks into her room. "Are you-- oh."

Vivian is asleep on her bed, arranged like a picture, her white dress (so virginal, such a lie) spread over Elena's coverlet.

Elena smirks. "So, we're playing that game, are we?"

She trails her hand up Vivian's calf and squeezes her thigh. Vivian continues snoozing, but she has practice.

Elena resists the urge to tickle her feet or throw water on her. Vivian will be cross if she does, and she has a better idea anyway.

"Awake, my lady," Elena says and leans over, planting a chaste kiss on Vivian's lips. Nothing happens, as she expected. Elena kisses her again, then licks at the corner of her mouth. She pulls away and tucks a lock of Vivian's hair behind her ear.

With a small thrill in her stomach, she presses Vivian's pink mouth open with her thumb, slips her tongue inside. It's odd, Vivian being so passive and quiet, her tongue quiescent as Elena's strokes against it.

When they were children, Elena was always the prince or knight, come to rescue the fair lady, and Vivian would direct her. Vivian was terrible at pretending to be asleep, and if Elena messed up, her eyes would snap open.

"No, not like that!" She'd say. "Too wet and sloppy. Do it properly!" And Elena would have to kiss her again.

Elena bares Vivian's breasts roughly, hoping to startle her. They're pale and perfect, and Elena licks one areola. She pinches the other nipple, making it darken and peak. Vivian sighs and Elena swears it sounds like a challenge: "Is that all you can do?"

She bites down and Vivian's breath hitches.

This is the fun part, where Elena gets to torture Vivian, and she can't do anything without admitting she's lost. Elena raises the dress slowly, kissing and nibbling, and pulls the fabric tight between Vivian's legs, cupping her palm over the mound. Then she ducks her head under the hem, intentionally clumsy as she rubs her face against Vivian's soft skin and golden curls, loving the rich smell, the heat, and the almost imperceptible twitches Vivian makes. 

She shoves Vivian's thighs wide and licks her up and down. Vivian trembles when Elena puts her mouth on her sensitive nub and her hips tilt up, seeking. Elena uses her fingers to spread Vivian's folds, dipping over the hole, teasing but not pushing in. 

Vivian whimpers and Elena levers herself up on an elbow to see her. She's flushed and panting, eyes determinedly shut. 

"Are you seriously asleep?" Elena chuckles. Her fingers still and Vivian makes a sound of protest. Elena presses two inside her, relentlessly scissoring them, and Vivian convulses.

"What was that?" Elena asks conversationally. "Are we awake now?"

Vivian glares down at her, panting and flushed.

"Are you going to make jokes or fuck me?"

"I can't do both at once?" She suits words to action, adding a third finger and licking over Vivian's clitoris.

"Oh, yes, yes, you're very talented," Vivian says, throwing her head back. Then she's grabbing Elena's arms and tugging, and Elena goes, landing not-very-gracefully on top of her.

"I don't think this is going to work," Elena says, moving her fingers experimentally. They're still inside Vivian, but the angle is all wrong.

"Do you have a better idea?" Vivian is breathless, squirming. Elena presses her thigh between hers. She's turned on too, and it's hard not to just hump against Vivian, still wearing all her clothes, but she has something else in mind.

Elena leans back against the headboard and has Vivian sit in front of her. 

"Spread your legs," she tells Vivian, and uses her own legs to keep them open. Her hand makes slick sounds. She feels tighter when Elena presses her fingers back in, trying to close her thighs and moaning shamelessly loud when she can't.

"What if your father walked in? Or my father," Vivian adds.

"I don't want to think about either of them right now."

"Okay, what about Arthur? What if he was watching us?"

"Then he would probably think you were a little slut," Elena says and Vivian clenches and goes wet around her fingers.

"Oh, God." Vivian says. "Can you-- please?

Vivian keeps turning her head to bite Elena's neck, testing the hold Elena has on her, refusing to behave, and finally Elena gives in and slaps her, right between her legs. Vivian comes, wailing so loud that Elena covers her mouth with her free hand. She presses back in, fucking Vivian until she hisses and forces Elena's hand away.

* * *

**7.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Crack, so much crack.

If Merlin was any more tired, he could audition for The Walking Dead and get the part of every zombie, including the ones in the back who, quite frankly, need a good plastic surgeon. There was only one thing on his mind as he shuffled about, too tired to walk: his nice, soft, cozy bed. Just the mere thought of said reclining cushion made him salivate, metaphorically speaking. As he neared his room, his smile gradually spread across his face, as slowly as the chocolate gets spread on the cookies in the Milano commercials. Played at half speed. Entering his room and heading straight for the bed, he was ready for a well-deserved good night’s sleep. His body already making the transition from standing to full-on sleeping log mode, he fell swiftly, ready for the soft mattress support his form until…  
The soft mattress supported his form. He fell straight onto the bed, just like this joke on its face.  
Heaven.  
Some indeterminable time later, the mattress dipped as someone—presumably Arthur sat down.  
 _Go away, I’m sleeping_ , he wanted to say, but his treasonous lips said “Mprllff.” Of course, with his lips being the traitors they were, he wanted to hang the bastards, but couldn’t do so without grievous bodily harm.  
“Wake up Merlin, come on. We’re late for the reservation as it is.” Arthur shook him, adding a few prods here and there. Merlin didn’t mind the them, but he wasn’t into being branded, even for sex.  
“Fine fine,” Merlin grumbled, and stood up, following Arthur sleepily toward the door. The second Arthur walked out, Merlin slammed the door shut, locked all 47 bolts on the door—well, 46 actually. If he locked the last one, he’d never be able to get out and would subsequently die of starvation. Not a very nice way to go, all things considered.  
He ignored the banging and shouting on the other side of the door.  
He had just closed his eyes and drifted half way to dreamland, he heard a rattling by the balcony window. The skeletons neighbors next door were really kinky, he thought.  
Then the window opened, and Arthur stumbled inside.  
“God Arthur, can’t you just let me sleep?” He groaned, rolling over onto his back and shielding his eyes from the light.  
“No,” Arthur said, annoyed, “Look, will you _get up and get dressed_ please?”  
“No.” Merlin said childishly, flinging the covers over himself, like a caterpillar building it’s cocoon. Hopefully, like the caterpillar, Merlin would emerge from his bed a new man, one that’s not lacking in sleep. Although wings would kind of be a deal breaker.  
It was not to be when Arthur yanked the covers off the bed.  
“Fine, I’ll strike you a deal.”  
“I just want to sleep,” Merlin whined.  
Arthur ignored him and set about taking off Merlin’s pants and socks in quick succession. He shimmed out of _his_ own pants, and bent down to take Merlin’s cock in his mouth.  
Merlin’s hips bucked into the heat, even as he moaned, “That’s not fair.”  
Arthur gave him a look, _I don’t play fair_ , and began to suck Merlin off in earnest. Merlin writhed under Arthur, like a fish on a line.  
He gasped and stuttered as Arthur did something filthy with his tongue.  
“Arthur, I’m close, I’m so fucking _close_.” He begged, and Arthur, the ass, pulled off and smirked, while stroking his own cock leisurely.  
“Here’s the deal.” Arthur points. “I’ll finish you off, if and only if you get up afterwards and get dressed.”  
Merlin frowns, “No deal,” and reaches down, just as Arthur grabs his wrists and pins them down to the bed.  
Merlin growls, frustrated. Arthur just laughs and grinds his erection on Merlin’s, maddeningly.  
“Fine fine!” Merlin finally yells, over stimulated and desperate. Arthur’s hips bucks down, setting a pace that he knows Merlin loves, and Merlin pushes back hard until they both cry out and go over the edge.  
As they catch their breaths, Merlin says with feeling, “I hate you.”  
Arthur just sits up, and says “I love you too.”

* * *

**8.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur ; Merlin/knights  
 **Warnings:** feltching, somnophilia, voyeurism, multi-partner, sex magic

Arthur stares at the campfire and lets himself be mesmerised by the dancing flames. Beneath his head, his travel sack is lumpy and uncomfortable, and yet it’s not nearly distracting enough. He listens to the sounds slipping from the tents behind him as Merlin visits each of his knights, one by one, offering himself up as sacrifice before tomorrow’s battle. The heat in Arthur’s face has little to do with his proximity to the fire.

Gwaine’s the first, always too eager. The flames rise and fall with the bitten off sounds he draws from Merlin, and Arthur clenches his fists to stop from touching himself, knowing he has a long night ahead of him. Next is Leon’s faint whispers and wet kisses. Elyan is surprisingly loud while he steals the sweetest whimpers Arthur’s ever heard from Merlin’s lips.

Percival’s last; Arthur’s not surprised at Merlin waiting until he’s dripping with the release of three other men before accepting Percival’s massive cock.

The moon’s high, floating boldly above their camp by the time Merlin stumbles towards the fire. His nightshift is wrinkled and damp with sweat; the smell of sex on him makes Arthur’s nose twitch and cock ache.

“They’re done with you, then?”

Merlin grunts and falls face-first onto his bedroll. Arthur can feel Merlin’s bone-deep exhaustion, but Merlin’s duties aren’t quite finished for the night.

He crawls the metre between their bedrolls until his knee brushes against Merlin’s thigh. “Expecting me to do all the work?” He slides his hands up the worn linen to reveal the pale, naked skin of Merlin’s arse. “As usual.”

The muffled noise Merlin makes is more of a snore than words. The implicit trust Merlin’s showing him now, sprawled out and vulnerable, sends a frisson of warmth through Arthur’s body.

Arthur chuckles, pressing a kiss to the small of Merlin’s back. “I’ll just wake you for the important bits.” He gets something unintelligible as a reply.

The night is chilly, even by the fire, so he doesn’t strip Merlin, only tugs the shift up high enough to kiss his way down the knots of Merlin’s spine. He spreads Merlin’s arse cheeks with his thumbs, showing off the swollen, abused hole. It’s red and glistening with come and oil. The mess that has already spilled from him reflects in the firelight, shimmering on Merlin’s inner thighs.

Arthur’s tongue tingles as he settles his shoulders between Merlin’s thighs, already anticipating the first taste. He nuzzles at the wet skin along his cleft until the scent of his men’s come makes his head fog. 

Merlin moans softly as he drowses.

 

Arthur darts out his tongue, following the crease until furrowed muscle twitches beneath mouth. Merlin shifts, muttering something that sounds encouraging, then drifts off again. 

Taking his time, Arthur cleans Merlin’s hole with short efficient licks while Merlin slowly squirms himself awake with the stimulation. There’s a hushed murmur winding its way through the quiet camp. His knights have been gathering by the fire, forming a circle with him and Merlin at the centre. He spares a thought to what he must look like, a king with his face buried in his servant’s arse, but feels no shame.

Arthur sucks deeply at Merlin’s hole, seeking out more of the combined taste of them -- his knights and Merlin. They are bitter and sharp. Powerful together. He consumes it greedily, knowing his belly will be full with it as they ride out tomorrow.

Merlin’s grown restless, desperate under the attention, no longer being dragged under the pull of sleep but eagerly pushing back onto Arthur’s face, whining for more.

Sitting back to a kneel, Arthur wipes his filthy face. “Are you awake enough now?”

“You’re such a prat.” Merlin shoots a glare over his shoulder and rises to his hands and knees.

Merlin’s so wet, so open, the head of Arthur’s cock slips inside the moment he gives a testing push. He thrusts his cock in with a smooth jerk of his hips, and Merlin whimpers, clearly still tender. Arthur takes it slow, settling into a rhythm of long deep strokes.

The knights stir, impatient, high off adrenaline and Merlin’s magic. The fire pops and hisses as the tension grows, swelling with each pant from Merlin’s mouth. Arthur snaps his hips one final time, holding himself deep, trembling through his orgasm.

Merlin follows him quickly and the fire bursts to life, the flames flickering blue, blinding and bright, for an instant.

The spell has taken hold.

* * *

**9.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** reference to canon-compliant character death

The secretary gives him a dismissive once-over. “You’re here for the one o’clock appointment?”

Arthur settles the brim of his hat lower over his brow. “Yes,” he says. 

The secretary picks up the telephone receiver. “There’s a Mr. Penn here to see you,” she says into it primly. She listens for a moment, then hangs up. She nods at Arthur. “Miss Le Fay will see you now.”

*

Miss Le Fay sizes him up with sharp green eyes, blowing smoke from her cigarette artfully as she studies him. “Why are you here, Arthur?” she finally asks.

Arthur tries not to show his surprise. He only left his last name, and an abbreviated one at that. Perhaps Miss Le Fay is not the charlatan that the papers make her out to be. 

Before he can respond, Miss Le Fay leans closer. “And I don’t mean Uther’s campaign to end—what is his slogan again—” she asks, pausing to wave a gloved hand through the air, “hoaxes, shams, and swindlers, was it?” She smiles at Arthur, cat-like. “I mean, what are _you_ doing here?”

Arthur swallows hard. “I want to remember.”

*

The pendulum swings slowly in front of him. Arthur struggles to follow it with his eyes. 

“Listen to my voice,” Morgana says. She insisted that Arthur call her by her given name, once she was sure he was serious about reliving his past. “The pendulum is only a tool.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and nods. If his father knew, but he doesn’t, can’t. He pushes all other thoughts out of his head and concentrates on Morgana’s voice.

“I will count backwards from three,” Morgana says, and her voice takes on an other-worldly quality, full of power and grace. “You will go back to the place you seek. If at any time you want to stop, you need only say my name and I will wake you. Do you understand?”

Arthur nods slowly, feeling his eyelids slide closed. It’s a strange feeling, letting go.

Morgana swings the pendulum thrice more, the golden object flashing before his eyes. “Three, two, one,” she says.

Arthur sleeps.

*

He dreams. 

His head rests comfortably in someone’s lap, a hand carding idly through his hair. A bit of sunlight dappling through the leaves shines through, and he looks up to see the face that haunts his waking moments smiling down at him. Arthur lazily reaches up for a kiss and—

—rips a strip off his shirt. Arthur ties it carefully around a strong, wiry arm that’s bleeding, _bleeding_ because of him, and Arthur has to make this right. Too many risks have been taken in his name, especially by the one whose arm he’s binding. He’s someone familiar, Arthur knows him, he does, but can’t place his name. But that doesn’t matter right now, right now they need to get back home to the castle where it’s safe, where they—

—tumble into bed, hands and limbs everywhere, touching, tasting, and reaching for one another. Arthur can’t keep his hands in one place for long, roaming all over pale skin and sharp planes. His mouth follows, tracing the pattern his hands make. Arthur needs to take him into his mouth, the taste bitter and strange but welcome, soothing an ache he carries in his heart. Arthur never gets tired of this, of learning all the secrets of their bodies, or of making new ones together. They move like shadow and light, one unable to exist without the other. Arthur sinks into his tight heat, moving sharply, wanting to feel every inch of him until he remembers—

—saying thank you as the darkness takes him to the one person who was with him through it all, who was his everything and more, an indelible presence even after a lifetime apart.

He wakes.

*

“Merlin.” The name is on his tongue when Arthur awakens. His eyes are wet, and also possibly his trousers.

He turns to Morgana, who looks pale and drained. The pendulum is in her lap, the folds of her gown crumpled around it. 

Arthur stands, straightens his tie, sets his shoulders back. He leans over and brushes a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Morgana,” he says.

Morgana looks at him, her eyes unfathomable. “I hope you found what you were looking for.”

“I’m going to,” Arthur says, and heads out the door.

* * *

**10.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** somnophilia and all that entails

Arthur closed the bedroom down quietly and made his way toward the bed, shedding his clothes as he went. It had been a very long day, and all he wanted was to snuggled down into the warm blankets and wrap himself around the gorgeous man slumbering in his bed. Arthur smiled as he stopped next to the bed, taking him in.

Merlin’s face was completely relaxed in sleep, lying on his side on Arthur’s side of the bed, his lips parted slightly as his even breath ruffled the fur of the cat on Arthur’s pillow. Gwen looked up and gave a sweet little meow before curl up tighter. Merlin wrinkled his nose at the sound and flipped over, pulling his own pillow to him and snuffling into it. 

Arthur’s breath ghosted out on a chuckle, and he finished pushing down his trousers and pants, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his socks. Shooing the cat off his pillow, he lay down and reached out toward Merlin, pulling him into the cradle of his body. Merlin grunted sleepily and wriggled back against Arthur before sighing contentedly. 

Arthur buried his nose in the short hairs of Merlin’s nape, letting his warm, sleepy scent wash over him and soothe away his stressful day. Laying gentle kiss along Merlin’s neck, Arthur felt his cock start to swell as the taste and scent of Merlin seeped into him. Slowly, so as not to wake his slumbering partner, Arthur’s hands wandered across pale flesh, stroking down Merlin’s flat stomach.

Arthur’s fingers tangled in the coarse hair low on Merlin’s belly, and he froze for a moment when Merlin murmured and shifted against him, rubbing his bum against Arthur’s hardening cock before settling again. Dragging his lips along Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur reached further down until he found Merlin’s flaccid cock, curling his hand around it protectively. 

Arthur wasn’t sure why, but he liked playing with Merlin’s limp dick. The feel soft flesh in his hand was intoxicating to him, and he made sure to keep his movements slow and careful so as to not wake Merlin. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Moving slowly, Arthur lifted himself onto his hands and gently rolled Merlin over onto his back. He kissed his way down Merlin’s body, allowing the salty taste to settle on his tongue as he made his way toward his goal. Dragging his nose through coarse black hair, he pulled the very tip of Merlin’s cock into his mouth and suckled gently. 

He moaned quietly at the soft, squishy feel of it and ran his tongue slowly around the head before sucking the rest into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around his teeth and gnawed gently, his hips rocking against the bed as Merlin twitched and squirmed beneath him. A sharp breath from above him cause Arthur to look up through his lashes and catch Merlin’s drowsy eyes.

“A’thur?” he slurred. “Wha?”

Arthur hummed around the cock in his mouth and sucked a little, looking questioningly at Merlin. Sleepy blue eyes blinked slowly before Merlin nodded and let his head thunk back against the pillow. Arthur let Merlin’s cock slide from between his lips, crawling up his lover’s body, and catching his lips in a soft kiss. Merlin’s lips were as pliant as his cock had been against Arthur’s lips, and he rocked his hips down against Merlin’s thigh. 

Merlin sighed and ran a tired hand down Arthur’s back, pushing down gently to urge him on. Taking the hint, Arthur sped his hips, rutting down against the crease of Merlin’s thigh. Leaning down, he caught Merlin’s bottom lip between his own, worrying it between his teeth as he felt himself getting close. 

It only took a few more strokes and Merlin arching gently against him, and Arthur came with a quiet groan, collapsing onto Merlin’s chest. Merlin reached up and patted tiredly at Arthur’s cheek until he looked up, and Merlin lay a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Sleep, Arthur,” he whispered with a yawn. “You’ll need your strength in the morning.”

Arthur rolled over and snuggled down into his own pillow, throwing a sheet over the wet spot at his knee. “Oh,” he said. “And why is that, exactly?”

“Because you’re doing that again in the morning. Only this time,” Merlin answered with a cheeky grin, “I plan to be awake for it.”

* * *

**11.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** NA

He comes to him at night. At first they sit and talk, going over all the details of their lives together, saying the things that were never said. Sometimes they walk, exploring their setting, seeing how far they can walk before they hit the edge. They never do find it, no matter how long they search. Most nights they just fuck.

***

It's a little different each time but it's always worth it in the end. Arthur spreading him open and working his fingers in slowly, thrusting and stroking until Merlin comes untouched. Arthur laying beneath him, quivering with anticipation as Merlin pushes in slowly. Arthur's mouth on his, hungrily seeking out his tongue without finesse as Merlin strokes them both off. His mouth around Arthur's cock, enveloping it in a wet heat, swirling his tongue around the head until Arthur begs for him to move. 

Sometimes they fuck hard and fast like they'll die if they don't. Other times they spend hours slowly exploring each other's bodies: fingers trailing down spines, tracing around rib bones, counting freckles and scars alike. Some nights Arthur grabs his hair roughly and fucks into him with hard thrusts, not bothering to prepare him, Merlin aching with the burn of it. More often than not, they lie together and make love, taking time to stretch and stroke until they fit together like the gods designed them that way.

***

Tonight they engage in one of their rougher games. Merlin's hands are bound above his head by Arthur's belt. He's completely naked save for his neckerchief which is in his mouth. Arthur is kissing down his neck, sucking and biting, making sure to mark Merlin so the whole world knows who he belongs to. He licks into the hollow of Merlin's collar bone and Merlin moans around his gag.

Arthur stops and props himself up on his elbows. "Hush now love, you know the rules." Merlin nods mutely, his eyes begging Arthur to continue. Arthur smirks at him and slowly lowers his mouth back to Merlin's neck, continuing his progress downwards.

Merlin manages to keep quiet as Arthur drags his tongue torturously slow around Merlin's nipple. He shrinks the circle a little smaller each time, keeping his eyes locked with Merlin's. When he finally licks across the center and sucks the tip in his mouth Merlin's hips buck up with need but he doesn't make a sound. Arthur frowns unexpectedly and sits up.

"I'm sorry Merlin, I can't do this, not tonight." Merlin cocks his head to the side but holds out his bound wrists for Arthur to free. He pulls the gag out of his mouth and sits up.

"It's alright Arthur, we can do something else," he says, stroking Arthur's hair. "Or we can stop for the night. It's up to you."

Arthur looks up at him and his smile is so wistful it almost breaks Merlin's heart. "Just hold me."

They lie down again, face to face, and fit their bodies together. It takes a while for Merlin's erection to flag but Merlin barely notices the discomfort as Arthur presses gentle kisses to his lips and the tip of his nose. Arthur's thumb trails across his cheekbone and Merlin can't picture anything else he'd rather be doing.

"I'm sorry I ruined the game," Arthur whispers into his neck.

"Shhh," Merlin rubs small circles on his lower back. "Tomorrow we can choose a new game to try." He can feel the tears as Arthur presses harder into his neck but he doesn't comment on them, his only answer being tears of his own. They cling to each other like they're all that's left in the world until Merlin's eyes drift shut.

***

He wakes up clutching his pillow. He never knows if he'll be granted passage back again at night. He doesn't even know if the dreams are real. He chooses to believe they are. They're the only reason to keep living.

* * *

**12.**  
 **Pairing:** Morgause/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Somnophilia, incest, dub-con

Morgause grabbed Morgana's wrist and said, "Sister, what's wrong?"

As was usual for the past three days, Morgana's reaction was sluggish. Morgana shook her head slowly and moved her lips without saying anything, then seemed to catch herself and began again. "It is nothing. Please do not worry yourself about me."

Of course Morgause worried. "You haven't been sleeping. That's obvious to everybody here. Why not?"

Morgana's eyes widened just a fraction, making her look wild. "I just... haven't been able to."

"Is it nightmares still?"

From the look on Morgana's face, Morgause had guessed correctly. Troubling. She lifted Morgana's chin with a finger and looked her straight in the eye. "I can help you sleep, if you let me."

What memories passed behind Morgana's eyes, Morgause wondered. Did she recall that Morgause was the one to have saved her from near death, to eliminate the premonitions?

Whatever they were, Morgana slowly nodded and said, "Yes, all right."

"Very well then. Come, let us to bed." Morgause led Morgana to the bed chambers and bade Morgana to change into her night clothes while Morgause prepared a quick tincture.

She handed the concoction to Morgana. "Take this. It will make you sleep, and I will guide your dreams so they are pleasant."

Morgana looked at her with skepticism for but a second; after that, she drank the tincture and immediately began swaying. "Oh. My limbs--"

Morgause wrapped an arm around Morgana's shoulders and helped lay her to bed. Morgana's eyelids fluttered and her mouth moved as if to speak, but shortly thereafter she was fully slumbering.

Her expression did not remain peaceful long though. In a few short moments, she was thrashing, crying out against unseen attackers. 

"Hush, hush," Morgause murmured, petting Morgana's hair. She leaned down to place a kiss on Morgana's slack lips, which eased the writhing somewhat. Morgause's hand rested on Morgana's breast, kneading it.

Oh, it would be a lie to say that Morgause had not wanted to do this. Morgana was beautiful beyond words, and she had been wasted in Camelot. It had been so hard to bide her time, to wait for Morgana to come to trust her.

Morgause drew back, and immediately Morgana cried out. Her nightmares were hooked deep. It would not be easy to draw them out, but it would not do for Morgana to suffer so. 

Morgause pushed the nightdress up past Morgana's breasts and leaned down to lick at her nipples, suckling gently and relishing that Morgana once again calmed. She trailed her fingers down Morgana's smooth skin, feather-light, and the shivers this time were in anticipation, not fear.

When she came to the soft patch of hair between Morgana's legs, she stopped, doubt clouding her mind. Was Morgana still a virgin, untaken by any man? They had never discussed it. But the thought of a _man_ taking Morgana spurred her on. Morgana belonged to her now, and it mattered not what her past might have been.

Morgause dipped her fingers between Morgana's folds, taking note of every reaction. A gentle caress made Morgana's breath flutter, while a more pointed pressure made her moan. Her musk began to fill the air, and Morgause inhaled sharply, trying to memorize the scent. 

She had to taste Morgana. Morgause slid further down the bed -- causing Morgana to whimper in the process -- and pressed her lips to Morgana's cunt. Every lick made Morgana thrust her hips further against Morgause's mouth, as if begging Morgause to penetrate her deeper.

Morgause was more than happy to oblige. With one hand on Morgana's hips to steady her, Morgause began a relentless assault of deep thrusts with her fingers and flicks of her tongue across her clit. Morgana's moans of pleasure filled the room, an aphrodisiac all of their own. It wasn't long before Morgana clenched and shuddered around Morgause's fingers, and soon thereafter she stopped moving completely.

Sleeping peacefully at last.

Morgause righted Morgana's clothes and pulled the covers over her. She pressed a kiss to Morgana's forehead. "Sleep well, sister."

\--

The next morning, Morgana joined her for breakfast, looking far more refreshed. "The tincture you gave me did wonders. Should I ever have nightmares again, I would much welcome another dose."

Morgause smiled. "Of course. Anything you require, sister."

* * *

**13.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** somnophilia (so dub-con), rimming/comeplay

Merlin wakes on Sunday just as the sun is fighting through the curtains. He has to wee something _awful_ and Arthur is trying to strangle him in his sleep—or well, it's Arthur's version of cuddling, which is really pushing Merlin to the edge of the bed in the night, stealing all the blankets and then putting Merlin in a head lock and relocating his knee to Merlin's spleen. 

He wrestles with Arthur's beautiful forearm for a good thirty seconds before there's a snuffle and a moan. Merlin's released, although he gets jab in the ribs from Arthur's knee, so he's free to go pee. Which his bladder thanks him for, even if the floor is a bit cold. 

Once he's finished, he's dead-set on getting back into bed and sleeping at least half the day away. 

Except he gets a bit distracted. 

Arthur's got one leg hiked up, his completely naked body stretched out across the sheets as he snores softly into the pillows. His arm is still cocked out, like he's holding Merlin in a strangle-hold but this time, it's purely metaphorically because the sun is literally _streaking_ across his body and wow. 

The morning light plays up the subtle shifts in Arthur's body as he sleeps, muscles twitching ever so slightly and Merlin can't help but stop and stare in reverence. 

When he slides back into bed, he doesn't bother trying to be careful. Instead he touches his fill, palming down Arthur's flanks and giving into the temptation to cup his arse, wrists pressing against the oddly hairless backs of his thighs. 

"Arthur," he says into the sleep-stale curve of Arthur's neck but he gets nothing more than a twitch in response. 

Merlin had gone to bed early last night and he knows it's early, but Arthur got in late from the office and had ridden Merlin while he was half-asleep. He hardly even _remembers_ his orgasm and it was barely three hours ago. 

Which Merlin can tell, not because of the time on the clock, but the way Arthur's well—

"Oh that's filthy," Merlin says and he can feel himself blushing. 

Because—

Well. Merlin's thumbs are wandering, pulling at the soft skin between Arthur's cheeks and it's... frankly, it's _wet_. 

"Arthur, Christ," Merlin mutters because Arthur's still sleepy soft, pushing back into his hands and arching. Merlin can't help it. He honestly has to. 

He drags his lips down the smooth column of Arthur's spine, teeth catching until he reaches the deep dip where he can worry the skin there until Arthur whines. Maybe he's on the edge of wakefulness or maybe he's still in the muzzy land of sleep—Merlin doesn't care. He can't stop himself. 

"I have to," he whispers against Arthur's back. "I've got to." 

Dawn is breaking in force when Merlin noses down the crease of Arthur's cheeks and licks up the soft, endless dip of his thighs to the wet, slick valley between. It's musty, maybe a little gross if Merlin attempts to be objective but he can't because Arthur's still wet with his come, sleepily groaning into pillows that smell like the both of them and Merlin has to eat him out. 

He just has to. 

He imagines he tastes himself there but it's just bitter, salty come and it's—more than just rimming Arthur's fantastic arse, it's Arthur climbing into bed hours earlier and working Merlin to orgasm because Arthur needed it, needed Merlin swelling and jerking inside of him until he was sloppy wet and satisfied. 

Merlin curls long licks until Arthur unfurls. He stretches out across the bed and moans, hips twitched and a tiny, "Merlin?" tumbles out. 

"Sorry, I just," Merlin apologizes, even as he jerks his own cock too roughly. Arthur's voice is wrecked, most likely from yelling at work but he sounds raw, newly fucked and it sounds like a promise or a taunt or—Merlin wants nothing more to fuck into him with his tongue and so he does so until Arthur's toes curl sharply and he moans into wakefulness. Arthur jerks back, pressing up into Merlin's tongue as Merlin pulls on his own cock. He's frantic, gone is the lazy Sunday press of his mouth and it isn't until Arthur slides his palm, fingers splayed, into Merlin's hair and yanks him forward—it isn't until Arthur forces Merlin to suck, riding his face with sharp grinds, that Merlin comes all over their sheets.

Arthur is grinning over his shoulder, cheeks flushed when Merlin pulls back, licking his lips. 

"Morning, _Mer_ lin." 

* * *

**14.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Barebacking? Not much else

Arthur loved the early morning hours best, when the noise and bustle of the outside world was dimmed and remote, kept at bay behind dew-fogged windows, while Merlin was warm and immediate around him. Nestled in his arms and their legs tangled, Merlin’s sleeping body was always soft and pliant, radiating a gentle kind of vitality. 

With the sunlight barely peeking into the windows of their flat, Arthur’s lips would find their way to that spot behind Merlin’s ear that had become like a second home. Merlin would make a soft noise, shifting to nestle closer into the familiar shape of his boyfriend behind him. The fingertips of one of Arthur’s hands would trail along Merlin’s side, down his elegant neck and shoulders, the bumps of his ribs, the dip of his hip. Arthur’s favorite part was when Merlin would move languidly against him, and Arthur would feel him still loosened and wet from the previous night’s lovemaking. 

When Arthur’s hand smoothed over Merlin’s hip, sometimes Merlin would make an encouraging noise from his throat or press back farther against Arthur, showing he was much more awake than he seemed. 

Arthur would take the invitation, his lips meandering between the sensitive spots along Merlin’s neck as two fingers reached easily inside, past the lingering slickness. Merlin would always take a deep breath, his arms and legs uncurling and stretching, while Arthur used his free arm to fit Merlin closer against the curve of his own body. 

Merlin’s breathing would turn slow and deep, until his head tipped back to find Arthur’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss that suspended breathing all together, while Arthur’s fingers pressed inside him and explored the relaxed, languid inside of Merlin’s just-awoken body. 

His languorous body opened easily to the stretch of three, then four fingers. Arthur would nibble along Merlin’s jaw, occasionally kissing his way back to Merlin’s mouth to taste the precious gasps and low moans that would float from Merlin when Arthur’s fingers brushed sparks or curled in so deeply, heat blossomed in even the farthest corners of his body.

At a certain point, the directionless waves of pleasure from Arthur’s exploring, caressing fingers would drive Merlin to start pushing back against Arthur, rutting against him mindlessly. The natural reaction of Arthur’s body would frequently bring him to meet the movements of Merlin’s, and more than once, the sleepy rocking of their bodies together had grown until the blankets became entangled around them and the whole bundle rolled from the bed. 

There, in an unplanned nest on the floor, Arthur would take Merlin slowly, his thighs opened to let Arthur in and then closed around his back. The speckles of morning sunlight drifting from the window would mix into the first glean of sweat on their skin, shared and mingling as Arthur held Merlin close, and Merlin twined around him with each successive seize and release of their bodies meeting. 

This morning hour was always a dangerous one. The outside world and everything it held would shrink away, consumed by the great heat and pull of Arthur’s strong body above and reaching inside, of Merlin’s supple form arching and melting in welcome from below. It would have been so easy to give up everything in favor of being encapsulated here in this moment – as long as they were together, sharing and opening themselves to each other before the day had even had a chance to find them.

“Stay,” Arthur whispered afterwards, hiding kisses in Merlin’s hair where Merlin lay nestled against his chest in the makeshift bed of blankets, the pair of them finally beginning to wake up.

“Mm, you know I have work.”

Yet the utter fondness Merlin wore in his eyes undid his words.

“Stay,” Arthur implored again, his arms cradling Merlin tighter.

Merlin called in sick, and they stayed housed in their private world for two a little while longer.

* * *

**15.**  
 **Pairing** : Gwaine/Elena  
 **Warning** : Dubcon (unnegotiated somnophilia)

“Well,” Elena says into her wine goblet. “We sure fooled them!”

“Indeed!” Gwaine’s voice comes out a little high. He feels like he’s got his back to the enemy, his bed huge and empty behind him. “Ah. Elena.”

“Listen,” Elena says. Her wedding dress swishes in lacy folds as she straightens her shoulders. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. I know you did this out of kindness, and I will be forever grateful. Tonight I shall put my on my nightgown and go to sleep, and you can do whatever seems best.” Her smile is bracing and kind, and Gwaine nods helplessly. Is that an invitation? He has no idea.

Gwaine wears trousers to bed that night, and shifts around, hyper aware of his limbs, and he cannot relax. Eventually he lets himself watch her breasts rise and fall against the restriction of her nightgown, and that lulls him to sleep.

He wakes in the middle of the night when he gets an elbow to the stomach and finds Elena pressed to his chest. “Sorry!” she says and shuffles away.

Gwaine wants to say that it’s all right, really, she can touch him any way she wants. But he doesn’t want her to think he’s trying to take this act of ‘kindness’—God, every time she smiles, he feels selfish desire bubble in his stomach—and take advantage of it.

*

They got married because Elena’s father was going to marry her off to the oldest and wealthiest of Camelot’s nobles and because Gwaine drunkenly proposed to her in a stupid attempt to cheer her up. She cornered him in a hallway the next morning. 

“When you said—, I know we’d had a lot of ale, but I have to ask—”

God help him, she reminded him of his mother in that instant, desperate and bound by the ugly fact of her nobility, and there was never a chance that Gwaine would say no.

*

Their first week of their marriage, they keep waking up in the middle of the night from touching each other. He’ll move away, or she’ll move away, and it’s not an issue. It’s even, occasionally, rather cozy.

On the eighth day, he wakes rutting against her behind, and he’s stuttering an apology when she reaches back to grip his thigh. She doesn’t say anything, but she digs her fingernails into his leg and rolls her body in a deliberate backwards grind.

Gwaine’s breath sounds too loud in the bed, and for a moment he’s still, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock filling. Then he feeds an arm around her waist and presses them together, waits another long breath for her to object, but she just pulls at his thigh, so Gwaine circles his hips in a rub against her bum. With his face pressed into her hair, he grinds, slow and careful, until she reaches up to shift his hand onto her breast.

He doesn’t know why it happens. Gwaine has touched a _lot_ of breasts, okay? And he’s lying there in a marriage bed legitimated by God and law, which should make it feel less illicit, except. As soon as her tit is in his hand, his balls contract and he says, “Oops,” and comes in his trousers against her arse.

 

*

When Elena realizes that he’s not going to turn her away, she’s brazen. She spoons up against him while he sleeps, she puts her leg between his legs, she tucks her lips under his jawline. And Gwaine—Gwaine must have left all of his experience and loose morals at the damn altar, because he still can’t bring himself to initiate anything, but he’ll go along with whatever she starts. He wakes up erect, in her arms, and it’s rather thrilling to hump her leg and wonder how she touched him while he slept.

Two fortnights after their marriage, Gwaine takes off his trousers before bed without thinking about it, and that must have been what Elena was waiting for, because he wakes up just as the tip of his cock touches her cunt.

She’s biting her lip in concentration as she works herself down, inch by inch, and when she looks up to see him watching her, she offers a smile.

“Is this…?”

“I’m in love with you,” Gwaine blurts, and she laughs, the vibration of it carrying all the way down to the clutch of her body around his cock.

* * *

**16.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** NA

Arthur was enjoying a nice leisurely wank the first time it happened. A slow tease since there was no rush on the weekend.

His pace had barely picked up when he noticed a dip in his bed and upon turning his head found himself staring into two very blue, very terrified eyes.

With a yelp he jumped out of bed, grabbed a pillow to cover his cock and was just about to threaten calling the police when the stranger vanished into thin air.

The second time was two weeks later. Once again Arthur lay on his bed, stark naked, limbs spread eagle as he fucked into his hand.

He was moaning and panting as he pulled harder and faster. He was making so much noise that it took him a moment to realise there seemed to be moans coming from another man.

A man who was wearing odd clothes and a red neckerchief, his trousers pulled down and his own erection being fisted enthusiastically.

“Not real,” Arthur grunted, trying to rid himself of this hallucination like last time.

“I am real,” the sex-induced hallucination gasped.

Arthur’s hand froze on his cock. He was pretty sure hallucinations were not supposed to talk back (not that he was an expert). But this seemed too real. He could even smell the other man - a mix of barn smells and earth.

Quickly getting off the bed to interrogate the man, by the time Arthur looked back at the bed, it was completely empty. Getting on his hands and knees, he peered under the bed and could see no one. The man had simply disappeared.

Arthur convinced himself that the hallucinations had obviously been a fluke. It was not until the third visit that Arthur had to face reality - that his bed was some sort of sex portal.

“You,” the stranger gasped, almost exasperated, which was not fair since he was the one appearing on Arthur’s bed. If anyone had a reason to be exasperated, it was Arthur.

Taking action, Arthur quickly grabbed the other man and pinned him to the bed. Arthur tried to ignore that both of them were very naked and their erect cocks were pressed together in a way that was not conducive to coherent thought.

“How did you get into my bedroom?” Arthur demanded.

“Wha-? We’re in my bedroom,” the stranger said, as if Arthur was crazy.

Glancing around Arthur could only see the neutral wall’s, football posters and his dirty laundry waiting to be done in the far corner.

“I think I can safely say this is my room,” Arthur said.

“Get off,” the stranger said and tried to twist away. His twisting did little more than rub their cocks against each other. Gasping for breath, Arthur watched as the stranger stilled, and then slowly, licking his lips, he rolled his hips deliberately never taking his eyes off Arthur.

Groaning, he captured the man’s lips in a desperate kiss. He had already been so close that he would only last a few thrusts. 

“What’s your name?” Arthur begged as his cock leaked and he felt his body tighten.

“Merlin,” the man gasped.

“Merlin,” Arthur moaned as he came, Merlin following not far behind.

Blearily, he gave Merlin a quick kiss on his nose before he went to grab something to clean them off. Turning back to the bed there was nothing but messy sheets.

The following night Merlin appeared again as Arthur pleasured himself.

“I figured it out,” Merlin beamed, happily working Arthur’s cock as if he had done this a thousand times before. “As long as we stay in bed we can see each other.”

Figuring he must have finally cracked under the pressure, Arthur could not even be bothered. Especially when Merlin took his cock into his mouth.

Afterwards as they lay sated, Arthur played with Merlin’s hair.

“How long do you think we can just stay in bed then?” he finally asks. Merlin just smiles at him.

 

* * *

**17.**  
 **Pairing: Freya/Arthur Merlin**  
 **Warnings: somnophilia, dub-con**

Freya breaks the surface of the water with a refreshed gasp, peeling back the dark locks plastered to her face and neck with small, pale hands, and crawls onto the large stone in the middle of the river, water pouring down her naked body in rivulets. Thee heat of the smooth, sun-warmed stone feels pleasant emanating through her thighs and buttocks while she dangles her legs off the stone's edge, toes skimming the cool water.

She turns her face to the sky, seaweed necklaces swaying between her breasts. A lithe, black-haired boy chooses that exact moment to crash through the forest undergrowth onshore. Freya startles, clutching her knees to her chest, even though it's only Merlin, acorns and leaves lodged in his dark tufts of hair. He spots her, smiles, and gives her a quick wave before motioning for her to stay quiet. She shoots him a dirty look, but complies.

A golden-haired man crashes through the leaves and staggers into the clearing, sword raised. Freya doesn't recognize his silver raiment, but it shines when it catches the sunlight, much like the surface of water. Eyes darting around uncertainly, the stranger barks out, "Who's there?"

Freya glares meaningfully at Merlin, but he only smiles and shake his head.

The stranger stalks around the clearing, whipping around every so often as if to surprise his pursuer. Behind him, Merlin giggles hysterically. "Oh, you're _teeeeeribly_ imposing, sire." He circles around the stranger and flicks the side of his sword. "His name's Arthur," he tells Freya, "but I call him Prince Prat."

Freya tilts her head curiously. "Why?"

"He was tramping about my forest like he owned it, leading a hunting party. When he took aim at one of my unicorns--" Merlin jabs a finger at the crossbow slung on Arthur's back, and Freya gasps in horror. "--I couldn't resist leading him astray. Wasn't hard, just crunched some leaves and a snapped a branch or two." Merlin smirks.

"What's he doing?" Freya wonders aloud, as Arthur sheathes his sword.

"Gathering firewood, I presume."

Merlin's right. She wades to shore and sits cross-legged beside him, watching Arthur munch on a crust of dry bread and prepare a stew over the flames. Judging from the face he makes, it must taste awful, but he eats several bowls anyway.

"A prat _and_ a pig!" Merlin cackles, and as if to confirm it, Arthur burps loudly. Freya giggles, seeing Merlin all flushed and giddy, but she sobers when she catches sight of his long cock jutting straight up in his lap. 

"You desire him," she realizes. 

Merlin flushes even more, but he's not stupid enough to deny it when his erection is right there.

She covers his hand with her own, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she summons soothing waters. After a moment, Merlin joins her, conducting birdsong, until Arthur's eyelids droop heavily and his head lolls back and he lies defenseless on his back.

Eager, Merlin crawls to him on hands and knees. Freya watches in fascination as he traces dirty fingertips over Arthur's unusually plump lips, lightly stroking his erect cock with his other hand.

Before Fre realized, her hands are sunk deep in his soft, golden hair. When she tugs on it experimentally, and Arthur's lips part on a quiet moan. "Oh," she breathes, "He likes it!" Merlin grunts assent and Freya relishes the slick sounds he makes tugging on his cock, twisting at the head.

She unfastens Arthur's trousers, pulling them down along with his smallclothes. His cock, fat and pink, twitches in its nest of golden curls between muscle-corded thighs. Freya grasps it without hesitation, stroking steadily. It fills out quickly, hot and heavy in her grip and she straddles Arthur, pressing his cock to her folds, and bears down, sheathing him easily thanks to her enhanced lubrication. One glance at Merlin's glazed expression is all the motivation she needs to start rocking, stretching her hole. She bounces deliberately up and down, her tits bobbing obscenely, rubbing her clit.

Merlin, poor thing can't decide where to look, gaze darting from Arthur's furrowed face to her tits to the place where their bodies are joined Thrusting his narrow hips rapidly into his fist, he makes a noise like a sob and arches, shooting rope after rope of cum across Arthur's face--hitting his elegant nose, soiling his golden hair, splashing his cheeks. As if sensing this, Arthur erupts inside her, too.

Both of her boys sated, she surrenders at last to her own orgasm.

* * *

**18.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Percival  
 **Warnings:** possible slight dub-con at first 

 

Gwaine wakes up with the bastard sun in his eyes, a splitting headache, and a beefy arm thrown across his middle. The house had thrown one hell of a party the night prior, one to rival all parties in the entire history of fraternities. Not that he remembered it all, but he had spotty memories that were pretty epic. Plus he could deduce as much from the way he had evidently passed out shirtless in someone else’s room. 

He hadn’t thought until this moment that you’d be able to fit two dudes comfortably in one twin bed, but there you go. Percival’s arm is wedged against the headboard, his legs entirely tangled with Gwaine’s. He shifts slightly, taking a look around the room to see if his pants made it into what he is pretty sure is Leon’s room. Before he has a chance to spot them, he’s distracted by the way Percival moves against him. 

They’re tiny movements, but completely impossible to ignore. Gwaine tilts his head back to confirm that Percival is still asleep, his expression unchanged as he gently thrusts his hard cock against Gwaine’s thigh. 

Gwaine isn’t prepared for the way his body reacts to this development. He rolls over, putting his back to Percival and fully intending to get out of the bed until two things stop him: a wave of nausea and a strong arm wrapped around his middle. Percival’s hand rubs across his bare stomach.

“Percival?” Gwaine’s voice sounds wrecked. He has a brief flash of a memory of standing on the back of the sofa shouting at Elyan about the eternal glory of beer sword combat.

Percival’s hand stills. His whole body is tense and somehow Gwaine knows he’s awake now. Their breaths are loud in the room, the rest of the house all still recovering from last night’s triumph. 

“Yeah?” Percival presses his nose into Gwaine’s hair, his hand twitching slightly against the waistband of Gwaine’s shorts. For a moment, Gwaine wonders if they’d...last night, before they’d passed out maybe. No, he would remember. He’s sure he would remember. 

The silence presses down on them until Gwaine remembers to respond. All is he says is “Nothing,” but the single word dissolves all the tension in the room. He relaxes back against Percival, enjoys the small sigh that stirs his hair. Percival shifts so his cock is pressed against Gwaine’s arse, and Gwaine’s shorts are tenting in a most incriminating fashion.

Percival thumbs the elastic of Gwaine’s shorts, fingers jerking oddly as he says softly “Can I...?” Gwaine nods, hips moving forward to push into Percival’s huge hand. When that hand closes hot and firm around Gwaine’s cock, he can’t stop himself from releasing a startled, laughing gasp. Percival snorts a laugh into the mattress as he starts properly working Gwaine’s cock. 

Gwaine squeezes his eyes shut as Percival moves behind him, his cock rubbing hard against Gwaine’s arse. For a few moments it’s perfection. Then Percival’s hand is gone. Gwaine’s eyes fly open in disappointed surprise, only to realize that Percival is sliding his own shorts out of the way. He wraps himself around Gwaine, cock pressed hot against the small of his back and hand stroking firmly once again. 

Percival’s frantic thrusts are more than Gwaine can stand. Much sooner than he wishes he feels the inevitable sweeping wave overtake him, and comes all over Percival’s hand. The most delightful, helpless sound escapes from Percival’s throat as a warm wetness covers Gwaine’s back. 

They lay there panting for a bit, until the sound of a door slamming down the hall shatters the mood. Gwaine rolls onto his back, utterly destroying Leon’s bedding without a second thought. Percival is looking at him with what Gwaine thinks might be concern, and that won’t do at all. He leans up to press kiss to Percival’s cheek, enjoying the way his eyebrows shoot up in response before the small smile appears on his face. “I need a shower,” he says, taking a moment to sit upright and gather himself enough to make it to the bathroom. He groans as he stands, wincing as his body revolts against the idea of relocating.

Percival nods, wiping his hand on Leon’s abused bed. His face is terribly serious when he asks “You want to maybe grab lunch? Later?” 

“Definitely,” he nods as he scans the floor of the room. Pants! Gwaine has pants! He grabs them triumphantly and makes his way to the shower.

* * *

**19.**  
 **Pairing:** Freya/Vivian  
 **Warnings:** Mentions of violence.

Freya _would_ be sleeping on her favourite doorstep the first time she got caught sleeping rough.

It was a nice doorstep. It had a thick mat that was almost like a mattress and a wide bootscraper she could prop her feet up on. She was fast asleep one Sunday morning when a pointy-toed shoe kicked her in the side.

“You can’t sleep here!” said the owner of the shoe. “Get up! I shouldn’t have to step over tramps to get out of my own front door!”

Freya blinked until the pink blur resolved itself into a blonde lady in a fancy hat. “You’re not usually up so early,” she said, too groggy for politeness.

“Hmph,” said the fancy lady. Then she said something that left Freya truly gobsmacked. “Well, I suppose you’d best come in. It’s not proper, a girl like you sleeping on the streets.”

*

When people asked Freya – as they were sometimes wont to do – how a ‘pretty thing’ like her came to be sleeping on doorsteps she normally told them she was Cursed. It frightened them off whether they believed her or not.

“I’m cursed.”

“Of course you are,” said the lady – Vivian, her name was – as she pushed a plate of last night’s leftovers into Freya’s hands. “Eat up.”

“I turn into a giant cat under the light of the full moon,” said Freya. Vivian clucked her tongue.

*

The first night, Freya slept under the stairs. The second night, she slept in a room in the servants’ quarters. The house was all shut up and almost empty.

“Papa’s away in the colonies till March,” Vivian explained. “You know, he’s always saying I should do more to help in the community. He’s a real philanthropist. That’s someone who gives money away,” she added hurriedly.

Freya knew what a philanthropist was, but she didn’t say so.

“Sometimes I eat people,” she said. “One time the morning after a full moon I threw up and there was an ear in it.”

“You’re an odd one,” said Vivian. “Here, try this one on.” She handed Freya a cast-off dress.

*

After the first week, Freya slept in the guest bedroom, which had a vast, soft bed before. She slept late, lounging around and exploring every soft fold of the eiderdown.

But then the full moon came around and she had to sneak out. 

She woke up in the morning streaked with blood and wandered the alleys of London balefully until she arrived back at Vivian’s house without really meaning to.

When Vivian found her sleeping on the doorstep the next morning all she did was cluck her tongue and drag her inside for a bath.

“How did you get so dirty, anyway?” she said as she brushed Freya’s hair out afterwards.

“I don’t remember. I think I ate someone.”

“Well, maybe you should sleep in the cellar next full moon.”

*

She never got around to leaving Vivian’s room that night. As day turned to night the two of them curled up together in Vivian’s bed and slept warm and close.

Freya woke up the next morning to the feel of Vivian’s toes tickling the soles of her feet, Vivian’s breath soft and wet on the back of her neck. She didn’t realise how close they were pressed till she rolled over and found Vivian’s lips against hers.

She tried to pull back and apologise but Vivian said, “shush, you silly thing,” and kissed her again.

Vivian lifted her borrowed nightgown and pressed kisses to her flat belly until she found a ticklish spot and Freya giggled.

She still thought Vivian was just teasing until her tongue dipped into Freya’s tummy button in a way that made her gasp; then her head dipped and her tongue was sliding in between Freya’s folds.

She tugged Freya apart gently and then her mouth was back, pressing a messy kiss right where Freya was most sensitive, right where it made her squeal.

Vivian licked and sucked and explored till Freya’s thighs were trembling and she was cursing Vivian with every word she’d learned on the streets, and two of Vivian’s fingers pressed up inside her, pushing until she came.

*

Freya woke up again midmorning with Vivian’s face buried in the tangles of her hair, just stirring.

“I really am cursed.”

“Yes, well,” said Vivian. “Don’t tell Papa when he comes back. He’d make you leave, and I want to keep you.”

“But –”

“Shush, now. Go back to sleep.”

* * *

**20.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Gwaine  
 **Warnings:** none

The ads for the 24/7 clubs glittered in the odd neon twilight of the sleepless suburbs of the city. Gwaine sat over a drink and rubbed at his eyes as a girl shimmied along his thigh. He always went for the entertainment during the darkest hours, his fellow gamblers and losers giving the same dead-eye stares to the same girls.

He'd gambled high and lost higher. Sleep and words counted for currency here, and he'd exhausted his cashflow some two or so years ago.

"Hm?" Arthur asked, still wearing the fancy uniform and making do with sounds instead of words. He gestured with the glass behind the bar. Gwaine gestured _please and thank you_ back and got a refill for his troubles.

The music purred at background threshold, leaving just enough decibel for the quiet of the one couple on the dancefloor, the clink of glasses and the booming vowels of the man on the television.

He'd had months of _thanks but no thanks_ sleep where he wouldn't have to chase for some glances and some words when he'd met the kid. _I can do magic_ , the kid had sworn, and they'd gone around a circus freakshow. He'd got him to perform in the seediest clubs in the neon district. He'd stood outside and shouted for the sensation, the _no tricks, no gaffes, no special effects_ magic shows. Where attention was currency, they were golden.

The kid had been great at magic and better at talking dirty, cock in his mouth or not.

Gwaine threw back the drink and held his glass out to Arthur again, quietly waving for more, as the couple on the floor shuffled another round to a repeat of the same instrumental tune. 

He'd gambled on Merlin's arse when he'd been tits over heels for the nights he'd spent spreading his cheeks with his hands, face in the pillow, and Merlin's cock squeezing into his hole. Then not sleeping had been a choice. It wasn't now. Where attention was currency, going broke meant repaying all debts for the rest of that existence.

_We can make it big_ , Merlin had said. And _I know what I'm doing_ , Merlin had said. _Destiny,_ Merlin had said, and Gwaine had been the sucker who'd lapped it up like a lollipop in the desert.

He had his hair for a bit of flair now, but had to roam the streets and wait for others to draw him in, their voices soaking into him when nothing got out and no chance to just stop, close his eyes and not exist for a while. They all ended up in the neon district, where the lights distracted from all they had been and all they weren't now.

Merlin sat next to him. He'd started coming a while ago. He gestured with his glass and played some magic trick with his fingers. He always sat too close, his thigh always touching Gwaine's, his hands dropping the cards far too often, until he was on his knees in front of Gwaine's stool, face buried in Gwaine's crotch.

Merlin mouthed at the fabric and got his tongue into the creases, this night and every night this week. He got the zipper down and his tongue through the slit, ran it over Gwaine's bare cock. 

Arthur poured Gwaine another drink and the couple shuffled on the dancefloor. Gwaine paid a little of his attention to everything, and Merlin had his mouth around Gwaine's cock, mind, but fucked if Gwaine gave him even an ounce of the sweet A.

Merlin sucked, and Gwaine fucked his cock into the hole he provided and came, but he never looked down, never looked across when Merlin slunk out of the bar.

Attention was the currency, and even if he never slept another minute in his life, Merlin wouldn't get one bit of it. The neon ads filtered in and flickered across the bar just before the door closed. He watched them go and wanted to close his eyes for just a moment. He couldn't.

* * *

**21.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** masturbation?, non-canon era, major character death (canon), angst

Soft flannel caressed his body. The warm sensations, like being held close by someone you loved, sank into him. He longed for that touch; the pass of battle calloused fingers as they traced nonsensical patterns on his abdomen, the feel of flesh on flesh as he sank deeply within him, his body blanketed by velvety skin. It had been too long since he felt that touch, too long since he’d looked into loving blue eyes or heard the voice as honeyed as his golden skin whispering words of love and lust.

He let his mind wander. Letting it fill with memories. The light tickle of hair as teeth nipped their way down his chest. The smooth glide of fingers pressing into him, opening him with sure strokes, and the twist and crook of fingers that sent jolts of pleasure racing though him. The smell of sweat on sun-kissed skin. The panting breaths gusting against his face. So many memories, so much to miss, so much to hope for.

Memories so vivid, excruciating in their longing, heaven sent in their ecstasy. His hand trailing down to tease his lengthening cock with feather-light touches as the smooth fabric continued to torment him reminding him of what he’d lost. Still he turned his head into the fabric, nuzzling against it as if it was his lover’s skin, remembering the smells of heat and spice and purity. He could almost smell it now, faint and teasing on the edge of his senses, a phantasm. He rolled his body into the bed sheets, almost able to believe it was his skin he was pressing against. Almost. 

He moaned as he spread his legs, hips rolling eager to find friction. He was getting close, closer to the image, the memory of the man he loved. He continued to roll his hips in slow shallow waves, waiting and wanting for more. The skin-like nap of the fabric as it brushed against him pushing him harder, faster; his body answering its call. Thrusting his leaking cock harder and harder against the pile, memories of nights on patrol too public for more than a quick rock of bodies, stolen moments in darkened alcoves, and rushed assurances after too close calls, spurring him on, filling the gaps between reality and fantasy. 

His mind became lost between time, then and now having no meaning as his body strove towards completion and his mind towards the man he would always love. His legs were spread wantonly now and the noises he was making were obscene in their base meanings. His hips driving his cock roughly against the sheets with every staggered breath, pushing him towards his release- a single moment where phantoms became reality and reality was just a shadow. 

He came with Arthur’s name on his lips and tears, leaking from eyes squeezed painfully tight, rolling down his pillow, soaking into the soft, red flannel. He let out a pained cry into the pillow, cursing himself and prophecy and fate. Another night spent waiting and wondering, another year, another century, and on they went lifetimes apart.

* * *

**22.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Lancelot  
 **Notes:** between series 2 and 3

_“We either shelter here or stay outside in the cold and rain all night.”_

~*~

Their clothing was soaked, laid out and might be dry by morning. The rain left Lancelot near-freezing and Gwaine’s mouth burns as he kisses down his back. Lancelot lays on his stomach upon their commandeered bed and clutches the sheets when something warm and wet pushes inside him.

It’s Gwaine’s tongue. Lancelot can _feel_ that smirk against his buttocks.

When Gwaine moans, the noise rumbles against Lancelot’s sensitive flesh. He doesn’t know what Gwaine does but it seems like his tongue _pulsates_ inside him and Lancelot pushes his hips back as his cock hardens against his stomach.

~*~

_“We can’t break in through a window!”_

_“Don’t be picky! We’d use the door except I’m banned from this brothel. Public girls become less accommodating when you ask about starting a tab.”_

~*~

They’ve been travelling together for three weeks. When Gwaine first kissed him they were both drunk. Most of the kisses after that were sober.

Now Gwaine’s tongue is hot, wet, presses inside him and Lancelot shudders, groans into the pillows. 

When Gwaine’s tongue leaves him, a soft whine slips from Lancelot before he can stop himself. Gwaine leans over, fumbles underneath the bed. Then utters a triumphant “ah-ha!” as he brings up a small pot of oil.

“How did you-?” But Lancelot is certain he can guess.

“I leave it here.” Gwaine flips the lid to the floor and coats his fingers with the pot’s contents.

He slides an oiled finger up where his tongue had been. Gwaine moves his touch slowly back and forth, slips in a second finger, then adds a third as he spreads Lancelot open.

~*~

_“You’ve snuck through this window before!”_

_“I liked Faye. She caught the eye of some passing Lord not long ago. Gone off for a bit of the high life.”_

~*~

Lancelot surprises himself when he flips Gwaine onto his back.

The shaft of Gwaine’s erection presses between his balls. Lancelot rocks his hips to rub them together, feels a hot clench in the pit of his stomach which makes his cock twitch. The soft groan from Gwaine is almost enough for Lancelot to keep grinding them together. But he spreads his knees, straddles Gwaine’s hips, reaches down and takes Gwaine’s oil-slicked cock in his hand.

Gwaine grasps Lancelot’s thighs and rolls his hips up, pushes the tip of his cock against Lancelot’s opening. Flesh presses together and pre-cum seeps between it.

“Wouldn’t have thought you the type for something like this,” Gwaine smiles.

Lancelot shakes his head. “Neither would I.”

He reaches with his free hand to spread his fingers over Gwaine’s chest, feels the thundering of his heart as he steadily impales himself.

~*~

_“Unclench for once in your life and get in here!”_

~*~

Gwaine thrusts his hips up, drives deeper and deeper inside Lancelot. And Lancelot rides the movements, lets it fill him as his toes curl and his head rolls back. When Gwaine pushes further into him, pleasure crashes through Lancelot, a hot ache twists inside his cock. The weeping head bobs against his stomach and there’s the desperate need for release but he can’t reach it.

Gwaine fixates upon him, his eyes dark, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. Lancelot slides his hand down the base of Gwaine’s cock, cups his balls, squeezes gently and Gwaine starts to writhe beneath him.

~*~

_“You keep hearing noises because it’s a whorehouse!”_

~*~

Gwaine’s hips move faster, fucks him hard and everything around and inside Lancelot seems to twist and tighten. His fingers keep teasing around Gwaine’s balls until he reaches round enough to push his palm against them and curl his fingers.

With a low cry, Gwaine comes inside him and Lancelot’s back arches as the spasm shudders through him.

“Gwaine,” he breathes out. “Gwaine, _please_.”

He’s still impaled on Gwaine’s cock, still feels it press so deep inside him that the smallest movement sets his body alight. When Gwaine takes hold of his erection, he strokes up and down three times before Lancelot comes in his hand.

While he waits for the haze in his thoughts to settle, Lancelot lets Gwaine draw him down and slip his cock out. As Gwaine nuzzles into his neck, Lancelot is dimly aware of the rain still hammering against the window, a warm cover drawing around him and then Gwaine’s kiss gentle against his lips.

~*~

_“It’s a bed in a brothel. What else would you suggest we do in it?”_

* * *

**23.**  
 **Pairing: Arthur/Merlin**  
 **Warnings: somnophilia (sort of?), cock worship, D/S themes, dubcon (though there IS allusions to kink discussion & consent) **

The spell that Merlin used was a simple sleeping spell. He altered it – per request – so that Arthur will be aware enough to recognize and feel sensation. It was, essentially, a twilight sleep. 

Arthur laid himself on the bed, naked and already hard, moving until he felt comfortable. His legs were spread wide – enough that Merlin could fit between them – his hands laid out flat by his sides. He let out a breath and then nodded to Merlin, closing his eyes as Merlin began to work his magic.

His breathing evened out, his body relaxing, and then he was completely at Merlin’s mercy.

Merlin didn’t rush. This was his gift, a present that Arthur so graciously allowed him, and he intended to enjoy it. Slowly, he stripped out of his clothing and then slid onto the bed between Arthur’s legs, hovering over Arthur’s hard cock.

He leaned down, burying his nose just under the base and inhaled deeply, moaning. “I love the way you smell,” he whispered.

He was new at this and he didn’t know if Arthur could hear him but he talked, anyways, just in case. Tilting his head, he licked a stripe up Arthur’s erection and took the head into his mouth for just a moment.

The moan he let out was higher pitched, desperate. He let it slip out of his mouth long enough to say reverently, “the way you feel, the way you taste. _God,_ Arthur, your cock.”

Merlin slid back down to the base; this time, he worked his way up slowly, teasing with small kitten licks. He finally wrapped his lips around the tips again but this time he didn’t let it slip out, couldn’t even if he wanted to; his mouth felt so empty without Arthur’s cock filling it.

Merlin wasn’t sure how long he spent just suckling at the tip, greedy for Arthur’s taste, but it was a while yet before he finally took more into his mouth. By that time, his own cock was hard but he ignored it in favor of Arthur’s.

He sank down, savoring the way it felt sliding across his tongue, and then pursed his lips as he pulled back up. Again and again he did it, losing himself in the rhythm, in the simple pleasure of Arthur in his mouth.

It felt like hours that he devoted to this, to Arthur’s cock, but it still wasn’t enough. His jaw hurt and his cock throbbed but still he hungered. His movements became fast, sloppy, he was so desperate for satiation. 

In the end, he knew what he needed and he wouldn’t get it this way. It was hard to give this up, to have his favorite treat taken away from him again when he loved to savor it but he _needed_.

With a pained whimper, he released his magic.

Within the minute, he felt a hand in his hair and the contact rocked his body. He whimpered again and then couldn’t stop tiny, desperate noises from escaping afterwards.

“It’s okay.” Arthur’s roughened whisper floated down as his hand tightening in Merlin’s hair. “It’s okay, I know what you need.”

Merlin was urged down again and he went willingly, body relaxing as Arthur made Merlin take his cock deep into his throat. He held Merlin there for several seconds, choking him, before he pulled Merlin back up and then repeated the movement.

His hips bucked once, Arthur hissing above him, and then Merlin was being held up by his hair as Arthur fucked his mouth rough and deep. Merlin whimpered and moaned, choked off by Arthur’s cock again and again, but he didn’t care.

He never wanted this to end, wanted Arthur to use him like this forever. This was what he needed; Arthur’s firm hand, his hips pushing his cock deeper and deeper.

Merlin dug his nails into Arthur’s thighs, the heat in his groin becoming too much.

Arthur ordered, “ _come,_ ” just as Merlin felt the cock in his mouth pulse and felt his own release wash over him as he sucked greedily for more of Arthur’s come. He whimpered.

The hand in his hair loosened, petting him. “Hush,” Arthur ordered, fuzzy. “You can stay.”

Merlin moaned happily and laid his head on Arthur’s thigh, holding Arthur’s softening cock gently in his mouth.

Hunger satisfied, at least for now, it was easy to fall asleep that way.

* * *

**24.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Cast of Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Public sex

 

Merlin sits alone and naked in the back of a truck. He's perched on a finely decorated sheet with several pillows around him. There is a hood over the flatbed, but there are huge windows all around. The truck stops along a highway. From what Merlin can tell there are rows upon rows of large 18 wheeled vehicles. 

"Something sweet coming in." Arthur says into the CB. 

Merlin lets out a breath. He has blown Arthur with an audience so many times he lost count, but he enjoys putting on these kinds of impromptu peep shows most of all. 

The first silhouette walks by almost as soon as the truck pulls up between two much larger vehicles. Merlin spreads his legs in that direction. He wants whoever it is to hold still, to watch. Don't play the teasing game of pretending to talk to Arthur, only to end up with their faces pressed against the glass, their cocks out and begging to get inside.

Merlin ran his right hand up and down his thighs, while his left took turns twisting his nipples. Two more men circle the truck. Merlin lays flat on his back then raises his knees up spreading his legs as far apart as they can go. He lifts his hips, clenching the muscles of his ass. He can hear the muffled sounds outside increase. Most approach silently, focus on him, now half a dozen men and a woman.

Merlin places a finger tip to the wetness gathering at the end of his cock. He swirls it around the leaking opening then paints his lips with it like fine gloss. Merlin closes his eyes and hums out a little moan, before rolling over on the expensive mattress. When he opens his eyes again he sees Arthur at one of the windows, a satisfied look of pride and lust rolling off of him. Merlin licks his lips, tasting himself and then stretches out like a lazy cat. He's on all fours, his chest almost touches the smooth bedding. His ass is up and open. Some shift their positions outside to get a better view. Others know to be patient, because Merlin wants all twelve of them coming.

Merlin nods towards an older gentleman with a rough looking beard. He's one of the patient ones. They've seen him before, don't know his name, but Arthur pre-approved this part of today's show. Merlin squeezes and stretches his asshole a few more times while pumping his cock. Then spins in the direction of the bearded man. He has dirty blond hair and now Arthur standing right next to him. Key in hand, Arthur opens the huge side window and lets the man reach in to touch Merlin's fluttering hole.

Arthur hands the man some lube, "Fuck him with two fingers." 

With the outside sounds now perfectly clear, the woman whimpers just loud enough to be heard above the increased speed of multiple men jacking off.

Merlin moans out a "Please." He knows he's begging Arthur to get the man to fuck him already, but the man takes it as words directed towards him. Two calloused fingers press in hard and Merlin rocks back on them opening his mouth imagining Arthur's cock buried deep down his throat. Merlin teases with his lips and tongue like he's actually giving Arthur a blow job. A few of the unfiltered moans around him get breathy and loud. 

"That's it. Make them all come Merlin. Make them come for you." Arthur encourages. "You like having this man's hands inside you don't you. I bet you want all of them to get a turn. Each one of them to stick their fingers deep inside. Let each one feel how tight you are, and yet how well you take it."

Merlin fucked himself on those two fingers again rolling his hips to hit his prostate. He pulled on his own cock again. "Wanna suck you off. Let me suck the come from your dick. I swear I'll drink it all down." Merlin begged again.

A louder grunt followed by a few relieved sighs. The man's fingers still to a barely there quiver as he calls for god to help him, but the only thing that he gets in return is the sound of the woman moaning out her pleasure. 

Merlin smiles when those upfront an temporarily satisfied, shift to let in the next batch waiting.

* * *

**25.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur

Merlin woke up to the feeling of Arthur slowly tracing his fingers down his arm.

“Merlin, are you awake?” Arthur whispered.

“Barely,” Merlin mumbled, his eyes remaining closed. He was still mostly asleep really, enjoying the comfort of Arthur’s body warmth as they lay there facing each other, their legs tangled together.

(They’d never been much good at sleeping apart, their bodies instead twining together. It made getting out of bed a pain every morning, neither able to tell which limb was their own, but Merlin wouldn’t change it for anything.)

Merlin was tempted to fall back asleep just like that, but Arthur wouldn’t have woken him up for no reason, and when the silence had dragged on for too long, he spoke again. “What is it?”

“Can you understand the song of the birds?”

Merlin took back his previous statement. “You really woke me up for this?” he groaned. Arthur was always far too curious about the intricacies of his magic.

He could sense Arthur hesitate, could imagine the way Arthur bit at his bottom lip even with his eyes closed. “Never mind. It was ridiculous, I know.”

Merlin hummed. “I can,” he finally answered. “What brought this on?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Merlin complained.

“You love me.”

“Decidedly less right now.”

“Oh _really_?” Arthur practically purred, moving his knee up from where it was between Merlin’s legs and nudging against Merlin’s cock. 

Merlin’s eyes flew open; he was definitely awake now. He couldn’t see anything in the dark yet, but he just _knew_ Arthur had a smug smile on his face. Never had Merlin been more glad that they both slept naked. “Oh, I see,” he said, keeping his tone casual as his eyes slowly adjusted. “You just want sex. No wonder you woke me up.” 

“I would never!” Arthur said, sounding offended. “...the possibility of sex was mostly a bonus.”

The insistent knee still nudging at him, however, told a different story. Not that Merlin _really_ minded, as he reached out to find Arthur’s cock in the dark, and laughing when he found it already straining.

Merlin gave it a perfunctory stroke, enjoying the way Arthur’s entire body shuddered in pleasure and the knee against his cock pressed against it just that little bit harder.

“Just this,” Merlin murmured. “I can’t be fucked to go digging for the lube right now.”

He relished Arthur’s little sigh as Merlin continued stroking his cock. “That’s fine.”

It continued on like that until Arthur finally came with a quiet groan, rubbing up against Merlin with a slightly increased pace. It was enough to tumble Merlin over the edge as well, feeling boneless as he came down from his orgasm.

They wiped their hands clean on the sheets that would have to be cleaned later, but that wasn’t very important right then.

“So, can you sleep now?”

“Mm, yeah,” Arthur slurred, dropping his head against Merlin’s shoulder. “G’night.”

He drifted off quickly after that, and Merlin took in his form with a small smile before he pressed a gentle kiss against Arthur’s hair. “Good night,” he said softly, closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him once more.


	2. Group B (with warnings)

**26.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Merlin looked down at the virtual reality helmet in his hands and at the soft-looking pod where his body would be while his mind was somewhere else. And then he looked at Arthur, in the pod next to his, helmet still in place because if they removed it before he woke, he would die.

"It's been two weeks," Merlin said. "He wasn't supposed to be in there for more than two _hours_."

Gwen nodded. "Bring him back," she said, and he slipped the helmet over his head.

*

He woke with a gasp and stared up at a vivid blue sky for several minutes, trying to swallow back the bile rising in this throat. When his stomach finally settled, Merlin stood up and took in his surroundings. In front of him was a forest, dark and forbidding, and behind him was nothing but empty whiteness.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Arthur," Merlin said, and headed into the forest.

*

He found the cabin a couple of miles in. It looked like it could collapse at any moment, but Merlin opened the door to look inside anyway. It was filled with crates and weapons and shelves of what looked like chemicals and possibly potions.

In a corner was a cot, and on the cot lay Arthur. Asleep.

Merlin's stomach clenched, his heart dropping to his feet. Sleeping in a VR world wasn't something that was supposed to happen. 

Arthur looked peaceful, his breathing deep and even, and one hand was curled around something on his chest. Merlin scowled and picked Arthur's hand up, prying his fingers away from a small green bottle. There was no label, but when Merlin brought it up, the smell was instantly recognizable to him.

"A _sleeping potion_?" Merlin asked the unconscious Arthur, incredulous.

Dropping the bottle on a nearby crate, Merlin sat by Arthur's hip and leaned over him, pressing their mouths together. He had laughed in disbelief the first time Gaius had told him how to wake someone from a sleeping potion, but had only gotten a flat look in response.

Arthur gasped against his mouth and Merlin pulled back, watching as his eyes fluttered open. They were hazy with sleep, the potion still clinging to his consciousness, but when he saw Merlin above him he smiled.

"Merlin," Arthur murmured, and reached up to wrap his hand around the back of Merlin's neck.

He pulled him down into another kiss, and Merlin hummed, licking against Arthur's lips and into his mouth. They kissed lazily, until Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's neck, arching his back.

"Arthur, come on," Merlin said against his mouth, laughing softly. "You've been asleep for two weeks."

"That explains why I'm hard as a rock," Arthur said, sounding slightly more awake.

Merlin shook his head fondly and sat back, reaching for Arthur's belt and the button on his trousers. "God, you had me terrified, you absolute prat. What possessed you to take a sleeping potion in VR?"

"Mmm, don't remember." 

Arthur groaned as Merlin's hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed gently. His answer worried Merlin, but he had missed Arthur so much, and his own cock was starting to grow hard. He pulled his hand away long enough to spit into it, and then began to stroke Arthur, hard and fast.

" _Fuck_ ," Arthur gasped, hips hitching up into Merlin's grip.

Merlin grinned and focused on his hand around Arthur's cock, watching as he moved over it, his fingers long and pale against Arthur's flushed girth. Arthur groaned loudly, one hand twisted in the sheets and the other clenching at Merlin's thigh. Pre-come began to bead at the tip, and Merlin leaned down to lick it away, dipping his tongue into the slit.

Arthur let out a string of curses and came, the hot liquid coating Merlin's fingers. Merlin bit down on his bottom lip, his own cock now straining at the front of his jeans, and wiped his hand on Arthur's t-shirt.

"That's for scaring me."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face belied his irritation. He sat up and pulled Merlin into another deep kiss, reaching for the fly on Merlin's pants.

"Let's take care of you, and then figure out what the hell is going on," Arthur said, and sucked a mark just under Merlin's jaw.

Merlin groaned, burying his clean hand in Arthur's hair to hold him in place. "That's the best idea you've had in two weeks."

* * *

**27.**  
 **Pairing:** Hunith/Balinor  
 **Warnings:** none

Balinor has been gone these three years past, nearly four, but Hunith has yet to invite another man into her bed.

She has no need to.

When Merlin is tucked snug away in the cradle she'd built out of the old coop, when the fire is banked and the door shut against the night winds off the marsh, Hunith wraps herself in a blanket on the sturdy bed that was just a little too snug for two to sleep and closes her eyes. She does her best not to listen to the night: the dark is too big, too loud with secrets, too likely to reach spindly fingers into the thatch of her roof and pluck something else from her fragile hold. The blanket scratches, the mice rustle in the corners, Merlin breathes and smacks his mouth in sleep. She lets these small, familiar noises soothe her, ease the strain in her back from washing and the burns on her fingers from the pot, and sleep steals in like an old friend, rocking her easy and warm out of the world and into the next.

He waits for her on the other side, as he always does. He waits with a tiny smile under his beard and outstretched arms, folds her against his chest; he smells just the same, like new grass and old smoke. His voice is the same, too.

“I've missed you,” he says, and she can feel the rasp in the words through his chest.

_You left me_ and _why_ and a hundred other words she might say hang heavy in her, but those are all words for the waking world; they have no place here, now, in sleep—here everything is softer, blurred out, overlaid with the gentle burr of bees and the smell of sunshine on heather. 

She doesn't answer him, only fists her hands in his thin shirt and pulls him to her. The kiss is a comfort at first, reassurance after the long day spent alone and weary, but it doesn't stay so for long. They both know their time runs short; it always has. His hands are big on her shoulders, peeling her shift down; he lowers his head to run his lips sweet across her breasts as her fingers close in his hair. She pushes him further, to his knees, and he goes willingly, laughing; his grin flashes up at her, wide and white while she cards her fingers back, curling her fingers around his ears while he curls his tongue up—up—up—to the hidden spots he knows as well as the angles of her face.

Her legs weaken under his attentions, and he catches her easily when she lets herself collapse; she pulls him with her, catching at his elbows until they go rolling over together, laughing, their knees and laughter tangling together until they come to rest. He kisses her again; she lets him, pushing at his shoulder until she can wrap a knee over his hip and roll him once more—until she has him underneath her, the length of his cock sliding close against her until she shivers. 

“I've missed you,” he says again, catching her hand with one of his, raising his other to brush her hair from her face. “Every day.” 

_Come home_ , she doesn't say. _Come back to me_.

She puts two fingers against his lips, instead, and rises up until he slips inside her. They gasp, together: every time it catches them by surprise, as if in the day between they had forgotten what this felt like, slick and intimate and utterly unlike anything—anyone—else. She rides him slowly, her head thrown back, his hands around her hips, his fingers sliding down her thighs and across her belly, and they move like the current of a river, rushing forward until they fall over a mountain into the ebbing calm of a deep rock pool: secret, hidden, safe.

* * *

**28.**  
 **Warning:** Sexualized ageplay/ de-aging, Daddy/boy themes

'I'm gonna go get ready for bed,' Merlin says, pushing his chair back from the table, pausing to kiss his boyfriend's cheek on the way out. 

It's Arthur's turn to do dishes so he sets to work clearing up. The sound of the tub filling filters down from upstairs and Arthur feels himself get hot in a way that has nothing to do with the water in the kitchen sink.

_He's in the guest bedroom,_ Arthur thinks, pausing to tuck his rapidly filling cock up into the waistband of his sweatpants. When he's halfway done, Arthur hears Merlin's tentative footsteps padding out into the hall.

'Daddy...'

The tone of Merlin's voice, soft and sweet, makes Arthur's cock throb. Putting down the plate he's washing, Arthur walks out of the kitchen. Merlin is standing on the landing, his bathrobe clinging to his body damply. It's powder blue and fluffy, dotted with tiny wizard hats, and Merlin has the hood up over his head. It seems to drown him whole, his bare feet barely poking out from under the hem.

'Yes, Merlin,' Arthur says, his voice slipping easily into a smooth authoritative tone, subtly telling Merlin that this is OK. That they can do this tonight.

This thing between them is new. Not the relationship but _this_. This thing that happens whenever Merlin gets small and soft and looks so innocent that Arthur barely knows what to do with himself.

'I need help,' Merlin replies, his tone bordering on a whine. He rubs his eyes with his fists, yawning widely, and Arthur's heart melts in his chest. Mounting the stairs, he begins to climb. Merlin doesn't wait for him, scurrying back into the guest room, _the nursery_ , and Arthur hears the splash of him climbing back into the tub.

Entering the room, Arthur takes note of Merlin's pajamas set out on the bed, a red onesie with dragons dancing across the fabric. The sound of Merlin's humming filters through the bathroom door, his way of reminding Arthur that he is waiting. Smiling, Arthur slowly removes his shirt and places it on the bed beside Merlin's onesie where it won't get wet. 

' _Daddy!_ '

His boy is impatient tonight. _'That won't do,'_ Arthur thinks, pausing to retrieve the hairbrush from the side table, placing it next to the onesie.

The sight of Merlin in the tub, dark hair curling damply around his wonderful ears, makes Arthur smile. Merlin is piling bubbles on top of his own head and grins when he catches sight of Arthur in the doorway. Kneeling by the side of the tub, Arthur strokes his thumb across Merlin's brow, brushing away some errant bubbles.

'What did you need help with, baby,' Arthur asks, his face betraying nothing when Merlin blushes deeply. 

'It's bedtime but I'm not sleepy all the way yet,' Merlin says, scooting closer and burying his face in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur knows what Merlin is asking for but he wants to make Merlin squirm some more. Sitting back on his heels, Arthur holds Merlin away from him gently, waiting until his boy's eyes meet his own. He holds Merlin's gaze, his expression expectant but patient.

'Daddy, _please_ ,' Merlin whines, pressing against Arthur's hold. He struggling not to look away, blushing furiously. Arthur wants to devour him.

Releasing Merlin's shoulder, Arthur's left hand slips beneath the warm soapy water. Merlin is hot in his grip and Arthur grips him tightly, setting a firm steady rhythm. When his other hand slips down to thumb Merlin's nipple, Merlin finally breaks. He keens softly and shudders lightly before going still. Arthur feels the slick against his palm and keeps stroking until Merlin starts to twitch and mewl, oversensitive and exhausted. Merlin is still trembling when Arthur lifts him out of the tub. He wraps his arms around Arthur's neck limply, snuggling in close.

'Don't fall asleep yet, sweetheart,' Arthur says softly, carrying Merlin into the bedroom and placing him on the bed, but Merlin is already asleep. Arthur quickly grabs a towel from the bathroom, drying Merlin off gently and maneuvering him into his onesie. When Arthur strips off and lies down beside him, Merlin sighs softly.

'Love you, Daddy,' he murmurs, curling into Arthur's chest. Arthur kisses his damp head softly and pulls the duvet over them, rubbing Merlin's back until he drifts off too.

* * *

**29.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none con due to unconsciousness, somnophilia

The first time it happened, it was an accident. Merlin got the wrong bowl of ice cream and was out like a light, snoring blissfully away. See, Arthur has insomnia; always has. The past few years he’s been taking some heavy duty sleeping pills on the nights he really needs the rest. And since he absolutely _hates_ the way the stupid things taste, he goes ahead and grinds them up in his ice cream to make them a bit easier to take.

It just so happened that night, he and Merlin were having the exact same ice cream in the same bowls and Merlin simply got them switched. Arthur hadn’t even notice until Merlin’s scruffy head was on his shoulder drooling away.

Really, it should be disturbing how fast his cock got hard at the sight of Merlin all vulnerable and asleep. In fact, it kind of was disturbing. That didn’t stop Arthur putting Merlin’s limp body to bed and then jerking off right next to him. Even more disturbing was the fact that it only took half a dozen strokes before he was spilling over his hand and onto the sheets next to Merlin’s bare hip. Turns out, he didn’t even need the pills to get to sleep that night.

+++

The second time, it Arthur who mixes the ice cream bowls up. He feels skeezy and downright prattish for doing it, but he can’t deny that the results have him going from zero to leaking in about three seconds flat. He even takes it one step further this time; straddling Merlin and pushing his boyfriend’s t-shirt up so he can grind out his orgasm on to Merlin’s belly and chest. He marvels at the lack of response from Merlin, the looseness in his body. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the biggest turn on to date.

+++

After the third time had led to Arthur’s dick almost _inside_ the helpless, unconscious Merlin, he finally got the balls to admit everything to his boyfriend. Arthur freaked out for a whole two days. How the hell were you supposed to tell someone that you were drugging them so you could molest them in their sleep? Someone who trusted you implicitly, at that? 

In the end Arthur went with the bare naked truth. He told Merlin about the first time, how it’d been an accident. He told him about after that he just wanted that _feeling_ again, that sucker punch feeling he got every time he saw Merlin lying there completely out of it. 

And Merlin, well Merlin was really calm about it actually. Abnormally calm. In fact, he was so calm that Arthur had to prompt him to say something when Arthur had finished his confession.

“Merlin?”

Merlin blinked, eyes focusing on Arthur from the distant stare he’d had a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Are you going to say anything? Berate me for taking advantage? Castrate me for molesting you without your permission? Take me to court for drugging you? What?”

Then Merlin did the most unexpected thing. He laughed. He threw his head back and laughed. 

“Arthur,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, “I knew what was happening all along. I never stopped you did I?”

“What?!” Arthur’s face twisted incredulously. “What do you mean you knew about the whole time?”

Merlin gave him a look that one would give a particularly slow child. “I think I know the feeling of my own boyfriend’s come dried to my skin the morning after. And that ice cream doesn’t cover up the disgusting taste of your pills as much as you like to think it does, love.”

“…Oh.”

Merlin chuckled and reached out to him. Arthur went quite willingly to settle against Merlin’s chest and bury his face in Merlin’s neck, cheeks heating from embarrassment. It wasn’t going to be easy looking Merlin in the eye from now on, knowing that Merlin knew about Arthur’s apparent kink for sleep sex. But Merlin didn’t heckle him or make fun of him. He just carded one hand through the golden mop on Arthur’s head and affectionately called him “Eejit” before dragging them both back to the bedroom and proving that awake, panting-for-it Merlin was just as much of a turn on as asleep Merlin was.

* * *

**30.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin (and his thoughts of Knights)  
 **Warnings:** none

Merlin woke from a boom of thunder rolling over the citadel. The storm raging outside, charged the atmosphere with an electricity that made the very space Merlin was in, hum as if it air were alive. His skin tingled, every nerve awake, much like how he felt when his magic was active. 

Rolling onto his back, Merlin stared at the at the black ceiling watching the lighting dance across the stone. He had already kicked his blanket off to the floor, preferring to feel as close to nothing on his skin as possible. Drumming his fingers on his bare stomach, to a tune played out by the fat drops of rain hitting the stone walls, Merlin felt more restless as time crawled on. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this rate.

It was hard to guess the time with the turbulent storm covering the stars and moon, two celestial night beings used to gage time, but if he had to guess it would be hours before anyone woke, leaving him awake, alone and bothered.

His drumming fingers progressed into strokes on his skin, as Merlin let his mind wander, about random things. The days events, Arthur being a prat, the intense training with the knights Arthur made him participate in. 

Today had been particularly hot and muggy, as nature prepared for the summer storm approaching Camelot. Arthur, however, thought it was perfect timing to work his Knights in their drills, until the heat and the sweat had the field fill with damp, shirtless, Knights, who Merlin was in charge of keeping hydrated. 

It was like a scene that had played numerous time behind Merlin’s eyelids, only now he had details that were never in his daydreaming. 

Merlin’s strokes got bolder, as Merlin remember the salty smell of Leon’s sweat, as he toweled off during a brief respite. Thinking of the way Elyan’s adam’s apple bobbed, as he drank cup fulls of water, caused Merlin’s breath to hitch and hips to wiggle. Percy’s mussels, rolling under his skin like wave on the ocean, had Merlin gripping his hardened cock. But, thinking of Gwaine always cause Merlin to stroke his hand along his shaft in a quickened pace. 

Sure envisioning what Elyan throat would feel like wrapped around Merlin’s cock, or what Percival’s body would feel like under Merlin’s touch, could fulfill Merlin’s need any day, it was Gwaine, being damned Gwaine, that got Merlin to climax faster.

Gwaine and his flirtatious ways. His lude comments and brash stories, pulled at Merlin’s fantasies. The idea that the man had the knowledge to play Merlin’s body like a fiddle, had Merlin pulling at his cock with a sharp slap of flesh. 

Merlin could picture how Gwaine’s overused mouth will be, when put to a use, other that talking. How his sword calloused hands will feel on Merlin, working him open like many of his bragged about conquests.  
The idea played so many times in Merlin’s head, that he entertained the notion, on more than one occasion, to leave his bed and go to Gwaine, asking him to make his thoughts become reality. To finally know what being touched by another’s hand would feel like. 

But, Merlin never left his bed. Choosing to never cause an action that could damage his friendship. Instead he’d lie in bed, playing at the fantasies, until he came with the name of a knight clinched in his teeth. 

* * *

**31.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana/Arthur/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** intoxication

Merlin woke with a gasp when he heard something knocking against his window. He warily rubbed his eyes and went over, slowly drawing the curtains back. 

 

He quickly unhooked the latch, dragging it open. “Arthur?! What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!” 

 

Arthur laughed and swung himself inside through the window, causing Merlin to stumble backwards too. They both landed on a heap on the floor and Merlin yelped when Arthur’s weight landed on his arm and leg. “Ow what the bloody--”

 

A hand clamped down on his mouth and Merlin stared at Arthur with wide eyes. “Slumber party. You, me, Morgana and Gwen-- grab your shit, we’re meeting back at my place in fifteen!” 

***

Merlin was going to have the worst hangover of his life the next morning. 

 

The four of them had been doing body shots off of Morgana and Arthur and were now piled under a blanket fort in Arthur’s massive media room, watching some stupid movie and drinking even more, scrounging through the snacks in Arthur’s house. Merlin looked around himself in a moment of fuzzy awareness, seeing Gwen basically curled up in on top of Morgana, her feet in Arthur’s lap, while Arthur was leaning against Merlin and had his arm looped through Morgana’s. 

 

Merlin had no idea what was going on between the four of them lately. They had always been friends, since elementary school in fact, and although they had their ups and downs, they were always together, the four of them. Around a year or so ago, Arthur and Gwen had tried dating, but broke it off when they realized they were better off as friends, and Morgana and Merlin took each other’s virginities in her mother’s lake house attic while their friends were swimming. Arthur, just last week, had pushed Merlin against the wall and snogged the life out of him and they hadn’t talked about it since, Arthur just kept _smirking_ at him. 

 

Merlin chalked it up to hormones and puberty and... stuff. They were all 17, about to have their last year of schooling and who knew where they’d end up? This summer they had made a pact to spend as much time together as they could and apparently that had resulted in this rather physical slumber party. 

 

“So how was the kiss then, Merlin?” 

 

Merlin startled and thought someone was reading his thoughts or something, with the way the three of his friends were suddenly staring at him and not the telly screen. “Uh-- wha?”

 

“Did you like it? Did he bite? He never bit me,” Gwen laughed, nudging Arthur, who was blushing slightly. 

 

“He tried to bite me, but I just bit him back so hard he cried.” Morgana smirked.

 

“I DID NOT CRY!” Arthur burst out. 

 

“Wait-- what?” Merlin tried to clear his head and listen. “How-- who?”

 

“Arthur snogged you right? You did, right? Or were you just bragging?!” Gwen said, sitting up and shifting in Morgana’s lap. Merlin didn’t miss the way Morgana put her hand between Gwen’s legs and he wondered what the fuck was going on. 

 

“I did! Merlin, tell them we snogged!” Arthur said quickly, face flushing.

 

“Uh, yeah-- we, um, well he snogged me, I wasn’t exactly the most active participant considering he somewhat attacked me--”

 

“Don’t say it like that, you enjoyed it!” Arthur turned and stared at Merlin closely. “You did right?”

 

Merlin was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah... Yeah, I did.”

 

“See?!” Arthur grinned triumphantly, leaning over and kissing Merlin’s cheek excitedly. Merlin blushed again. Was this the alcohol or-- oh whatever, he was going to enjoy this night regardless of whatever was going on. 

 

The rest of the night became slightly hazy, as Gwen and Morgana started to snog and Arthur pulled Merlin forward, making him straddle his lap. Gwen’s fingers ended up in Merlin’s hair as Arthur bent down and sucked his cock and holy hell _when and where had he learned how to do that?!_ Morgana was bringing Gwen off with her fingers and dirty words that Merlin had never ever imagined her saying with her posh accent. 

 

The alcohol drenched Merlin’s veins and calmed his nerves-- they were best friends, the four of them would always be best friends, no matter where they went to uni, no matter what they got up to in slumber parties.

* * *

**32.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None.

They’re both alphas, and it shouldn’t be this good. In public, Merlin will swallow his pride and bow his head, not just like a serving boy, but as though he recognises Arthur as the better alpha. In private, Arthur will let Merlin fuck him like they’re not breaking every fucking rule, like it makes any kind of sense.

They’re both alphas and none of it matters at all because Merlin’s just a servant. That’s the only way he can explain it.

They always do it in the privacy of Arthur’s bed, with the drapes drawn halfway closed. Sometimes, Arthur will straddle Merlin; will hold the high ground while he sinks down on Merlin’s cock, and Merlin remembers the first time, remembers every time, how beautiful Arthur is and how Merlin just can’t get enough breath watching him like this, ends up panting open-mouthed even as he tries so hard not to touch, not to hold down Arthur’s thighs until he is exactly where Merlin wants him. Arthur never fails to mock him for it as they dress, compares him to a dog, and looks a little less ashamed of what they do, after.

Other times, they fight. They fight until Arthur has proven himself, has pinned and subjugated Merlin, and Merlin knows he’ll wake up to too many bruises all over his body, but it doesn’t matter because Arthur will then lie back. He’ll let Merlin cover him and rub his hands over the sensitive insides of Arthur’s thighs where they’re spread wide, and the air will grow thin in Merlin’s chest even as he tries to breathe Arthur in. He’ll let Merlin stroke the oil into him; he’ll close his eyes and allow himself the faintest grunt, and then again as Merlin mounts him, and it shouldn’t send such a thrill down Merlin’s spine, but it does.

When they sleep, after, Arthur will let Merlin lie on top of him, Arthur’s throat bared right before him and Merlin _wants_ , so bad. He wants to bite, to mark, but he buries his nose there instead and Arthur’s an alpha; Merlin doesn’t understand how he can smell so good. 

In the morning, they make sure to wash up, though they can’t rub each other’s scents from their skin completely. But they are master and servant, and that explains enough. What it doesn’t quite explain is Merlin’s need to keep Arthur safe, to go above and beyond, and the way Arthur’s eyes cut to his before inquiring if Merlin’s little bottom is sore in the middle of a hunt, or the way their words will turn from cutting to understanding and back in the time it takes for Gwaine to finish an apple. 

It’s when Merlin’s exhausted and more than half-asleep that he forgets not to want Arthur too much, and his knot sometimes forms. It would be fascinating if it weren’t so worrisome; if it didn’t have him rubbing desperately against the mattress in search of something he can’t have, with Arthur out of reach beside him. 

The first time Arthur catches him at it after waking up in the middle of the night, he pulls Merlin on top of himself irritably, as though insulted that Merlin should prefer the mattress. They both freeze moments later. Merlin dresses and leaves, doesn’t look back, feels too hopeless to be embarrassed.

The first time Arthur takes Merlin’s knot, he lets himself sink down onto Merlin’s lap, and Merlin would be wide-eyed with disbelief if he weren’t so busy moaning. His body feels like it might be on fire, and his head tips back when his knot slips inside, and ‘Oh, God, oh, God, oh _God_ ’. He might just be dying. Arthur’s thighs slide stickily over his and then Arthur’s nose brushes his throat, followed by his teeth just before he bites down. It seems to last forever and never long enough, his body wrapped in too much pleasurepainpleasure, and then he’s coming; when he looks up, Arthur’s eyes are slits, lazy and self-satisfied, and there’s too much colour in his cheeks as he slowly strokes himself.

‘Still completely useless, then,’ Arthur says later, sighing in a very put upon way, when it turns out they can’t move much. 

‘Sorry,’ says Merlin, unconvincingly. Arthur grumbles and goes to sleep sitting upright, surrounded by Merlin’s arms. 

The next day, Arthur smells too much of Merlin, but no one questions it. Merlin thinks maybe being a servant isn’t too bad after all, especially when Arthur drags him to bed straight after lunch.

* * *

**33.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** mild dub-con for sleep sex

“Oh… ohhh.” 

Merlin’s in the midst of a fever dream before he startles awake, blearily aware of the warm, soft suction on his cock.

“ _Arthur_ —?” 

—Was supposed to be resting in Avalon, only to return when the world was in peril, so why is he at Merlin’s crotch, looking like he’d been in the midst of giving Merlin a blowjob?

“Hello,” Arthur says, pulling off with a wet _pop_. He grins, wipes his mouth with a hand. “I thought it’d make a nice greeting.”

“Why are you here? And why are you all…” Merlin pauses to make a floppy hand motion, “…see-through?” He’s pretty confused. 

“I thought you’d be happier to see me, Merlin.” Arthur sounds grumpy. 

“I am.” Merlin points at his erection, then rubs at his eyes. “I just want to understand. And I think this calls for coffee.”

“Can’t we finish this first?”

“…Okay.”

***

Turns out, Arthur’s very enthusiastic at this whole “greeting” business. He’s fisting the base of Merlin’s cock with a spit-slick hand, his mouth moving up and down the tip and his _tongue_ , god, his tongue is spearing the slit of his cock and Merlin hears himself emit a whimper.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Arthur, _fuuuuck_ ,” and he’s coming, spurting into Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur tries to swallow, bless him, but he chokes and coughs, spluttering as he spits to the side. 

“…harder than she made it sound,” he mutters.

“What? Who?” Merlin demands, but his voice comes out breathy.

“Freya.” The grumpy tone is back. “Said I had to take an offering from you for seven nights before Avalon would release me.”

“And you figured that waking me up by sucking my brains out of my cock was the best way?”

“She made a thinly-veiled suggestion.”

“God.” 

They say time changes people. Merlin should know, but he feels vaguely horrified at the difference between the sweet, delicate Freya of his remembrance and this Freya who gives the Once and Future King _blowjob advice_.

“I think I need that coffee now.”

***

The two consecutive nights are much the same. Merlin wakes up, sleep-muzzy, in the middle of a blowjob from Arthur—it’s messy and without much finesse, but with a sheer determination that is pure Arthur.

There’s really nothing hotter than seeing Arthur’s blonde head bobbing up and down, his cheeks hollowing around Merlin’s cock and his lips, pink and lush and _sticky_.

Merlin slips his fingers into Arthur’s hair, softly gripping in silent encouragement. The other hand slides to his cheek which is filled with his cock, presses lightly. Arthur looks up through his fringe, blue eyes startling, his mouth still stretched wide around it; that split-second image overwhelms Merlin, wringing a throaty gasp as he starts to come. 

This time, Arthur swallows it down, pink tongue darting out to lick at the come that’s leaked out.

“How are you so good at this?” Merlin asks, plaintive, while Arthur makes his way beside him and steals a pillow.

“A warrior has to adapt to any situation he faces.”

“And how many nights are left?” 

Arthur counts on his fingers. “Four.”

“Four more before you come back for good?”

“Four more before I get saddled with you _again_ , Merlin. For good,” Arthur confirms, and Merlin takes it as a promise.

“I’ve missed you, you know.” He’s sleepy and sated, and not responsible for whatever comes out of his mouth.

“Me too.”

It’s been more than a thousand years. He can wait a little longer.

* * *

**34.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none  
DREAMS

Golden eyes snap closed.

Dreams. Entrancing us from beneath our subconscious. Enchanting us with sparkling scenery painted across our imagination in wondrous colours. We willingly fall into their open arms, in blissful ignorance of the waking world around us.

It starts with a whisper; filled with longing, tempting your deepest secrets out from the forgotten corners of your mind. Haunting you; ghosts of images teasing your senses. Exhilarating exhaustion caresses you and you give in.

Merlin looked forward to his dreams and tonight was no different. Clumsily collapsing in his comfortable cot, Merlin stretched with feline grace. A thick vale of ebony lashes falls; the final curtain call of the day, and Merlin falls into a deep slumber.

Darkness descends upon his sleeping form, drowning the day in endless night. Merlin fluttered his eyes open and was enveloped with warm light.

A soft sound washed upon his ears and a chill crawled up his spine. As he sat up he found himself cast upon a shore. His eyes wandered around him and came to rest upon sun-kissed, tanned skin. Next to him lay Arthur, golden crown of hair mussed and trailing over his closed eyes.

Softly he moved towards him and reached out to touch the man that tempted his heart and body so. Arthur stirred as Merlin's delicate fingers traced across his cheek. "Merlin? Where are we?"

"I... I don't know, but... Arthur... I, I want..." Merlin stuttered as his hand fell from his prince's soft cheek. 

Arthur took Merlin's hand in his own and returned it to its spot, nuzzling his wrist where he left a soft swift kiss, no more than a brush of his lips. "You want what, Merlin?"

"You." He spoke without even thinking, the word just fell from his parted lips. 

Arthur barely paused before he reached out entangling his fingertips in Merlin's ebony crown, bringing their lips together. "Me, too... wanted you for so long."

Merlin's smile shone brighter than the sun and as heated breath ghosted over searching lips, finally they melted into the most tender of kisses, a nervous caress of mouths and curious flick of tongues. They moved together, pressing their shapely bodies against one another, seeking out each touch like it was water in a desert.

"Please..." Merlin begged and in a moment Arthur was upon him. Merlin spread his legs and his prince sank between them. They kissed and touched till Arthur seamlessly began to press his fingers into his lover, stretching him till Merlin was crying out on the brink of insanity and begging for more.

As sudden as the crash of the waves around them Arthur stopped and looked deep into Merlin's eyes. "I love you."

The young warlock didn't have time to respond as he was wrecked when Arthur finally thrust his aching cock into his tight hole. His body bowed and his lips parted in a silent scream, so full and overwhelmed. His own hard erection, trapped between them, pulsed with intense pleasure.

Merlin's nails clawed at Arthur's back and the prince rocked deeper still into his love's beautiful body, showering his neck with open mouthed kisses, biting down, leaving a mark of ownership on his iridescent alabaster skin.

It took no longer than moments before both men freefell into euphoria, calling out the other's name as they came to orgasm together, bombarded with the blissful agony of their own utopian dream.

Arthur cradled Merlin as they came down from their high. He would never let go of him again.

Once more the world was dark. 

Arthur shot, bolt upright in his bed within his chambers. His hands searching for his dream lover, panting and slick with sweat. How sweet the dream that when awoken from changes your life. No more would he stay silent. Tonight Merlin would lay in his arms, not in his dreams.

Golden eyes flashed open.

A slow and resentfully easy smirk grew across rosy lips, stray ringlets of ebony waves fell across a shoulder. Morgana grinned wickedly as her spell completed, began to wither. The things she did for Arthur and Merlin. Perhaps all they needed was a little magic and a dream.

* * *

**35.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Nothing dubious. 

It was only a border disturbance. They happened all the time. One of the duties as a knight of Camelot was to serve in the rotating parties that brought order to the skirmishes. Usually they did not end in violence and everyone returned tired, annoyed, but no worse for the wear.

But that didn't stop Merlin from worrying.

It had been five days and four nights since the latest party set out. They should have been back that morning, but the day passed without word from them. Merlin had fallen into his bed exhausted, but sleep remained elusive. 

So, he crept into the knights' quarters, even in the dark he knew his way—down the steps, fourth door on the left. He didn't sleep there often. If anyone knew about their relationship, they looked the other way. The old religion didn't condemn it, but it was not precisely accepted, so they were careful not to be too obvious.

The air in the room was slightly stale, sign enough for Merlin that its tenant had been gone too long. Merlin edged forward until he reached the bed. Instead of finding its usual occupant, the bed linens were cold, but as he crawled up to the pillow, there was a familiar, welcoming scent of sweat and black soap. He let it wash over him. Clutching a handful of the blankets, he rolled over onto his stomach and shut his eyes. For the first time in days, he drifted off.

Hours later, Merlin stirred in his sleep, vaguely aware of a door opening, a faint light behind his eyelids, and then a waft of cold air at his feet.

He felt a tickle at his toes, likely a mouse seeking warmth. But the tickling didn't go away as Merlin gently kicked his foot on reflex. Instead, there was warm air ghosting over his toes and up to his ankle. Merlin shook his foot again, but this time the distinct feeling of fingertips slid up his calves.

Merlin didn’t fully wake as the mattress shifted and the light touch of fingertips grew firmer, rubbing up the back of his thighs. Merlin spread his legs wider, subconsciously making space for the weight crawling onto the bed.

The blankets slipped off his body, but for the first time in four nights, Merlin did not feel cold.

His mind still in the place between dreaming and wakefulness, he felt his sleeping tunic get pushed up his back, exposing his bare skin to the room. The chill that should have been present was taken away by the strong, familiar hands that began to knead his arse cheeks. 

Merlin huffed and pushed his arse back, the responding chuckle resonating in his dream. He learned at a young age that his dreams were more vivid compared to others, but when the wet heat of a tongue lapped between his cheeks, Merlin stirred awake enough to let out a quiet moan. The licking continued, making a path around Merlin's hole and down to the spot behind his balls that drove him absolutely mad. Merlin groaned into his pillow and lifted his hips, shifting his weight to make room for his hardening cock. 

When he shifted, his arse cheeks were greeted with the rough, but welcome feeling of stubble, contrasting the soft, wet tongue that was trying to push inside him. Merlin whimpered into the pillow, on the precipice of waking up.

He scrunched his eyes shut as a slick finger breached him, afraid that were he to fully awaken, the dream would be gone and he would be alone again. Merlin canted his hips trying to pull the finger in deeper. A murmured “greedy” passed through Merlin's ears, but the angle of the finger did change, making Merlin's toes curl. 

Merlin chased the growing pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach. He rutted against the bed linens while the tongue licked sloppily above his bollocks and the finger pumping in and out of him met his rhythm.

The pressure built as he tried to cling to the dream, but it was a losing battle as Merlin's orgasm crashed through him and a flicker of magic burst through him causing the lamp on the table to ignite.

On the wall, Merlin could see the shadows of two men—himself and another.

“M'not dreaming?” Merlin mumbled as a very solid weight pressed against his back.

“No, Merlin.” Gwaine's voice was a whisper in his ear. "I'm home."

* * *

**36.**  
 **Pairing:** Freya/Sefa  
 **Warnings:** N/A

There’s a monster under Sefa’s bed.

She’s a pretty monster. She’s a big cat, with wings and bright eyes and wicked, sharp teeth. But she’s a monster, and Sefa knows she’s supposed to tell her dad about monsters, so she does.

Dad says there’s no such thing as monsters, disappointed and cold. He tells her to be a brave girl.

Sefa goes to sleep to growling under her bed. It sounds like crying.

###

There’s a girl during the daylight in the monster’s place, and she always looks sad. She’s _is_ Monster, she explains. She’s cursed, dangerous. Sefa doesn’t believe that, though. Her monster has never hurt her, and when she tells Monster that it makes her smile.

But Dad says the girl isn’t real either, when Sefa talks about her, so Sefa doesn’t mention it anymore.

That doesn’t mean Monster goes away.

###

Sefa is twelve, and she can’t sleep without Monster purring beneath her bed. Nobody else plays pretend anymore, or makes tea for imaginary friends. Nobody else still reads fairy tales or wonders how to lift curses, because nobody thinks they’re real. Sefa keeps her belief quiet and doesn’t talk to them much. She’d rather be with Monster anyway.

###

“What’s your name?”

“I can’t say.”

“You should have a name.” All Sefa’s toys, when she was still young enough for toys, had names. Gwen the queen, and Merlin the stuffed rabbit that came with a top hat, names chosen and deliberated over. Monster has always just been herself. It seems wrong. “Why can’t you say?”

“You have to name me. That’s how it works.”

###

Sefa is sixteen before she thinks to ask Monster out from under the bed. “Come up and sleep with me,” she whispers one night, when the growls that are really sobs get too loud.

Monster isn’t tame. When she comes out, she’s like a panther, wings ruffled, teeth bared. Sefa holds her hand out, and Monster flies to her, settling against her side, breath across her neck.

In her dreams, Sefa kisses Monster, kisses her and kisses her until they’re both breathless.

In the morning, she wakes to Monster’s assessing human gaze. “Do you have a name for me yet?” she says, but it feels like she’s asking a different question.

Sefa shakes her head and hates herself for not being good enough to break the curse.

###

She goes away for school, because Dad says she should, but she’s lonely. Her roommate is pretty and a little scary, which should make her like Monster but doesn’t. Sefa studies, and calls Dad once a week, and wishes she could call Monster too. She writes a journal instead, all the things she’d like to say to her, lists of names.

When she comes home, Monster is waiting for her, but Dad isn’t. “Have you named me yet?” Monster asks right away, and Sefa shakes her head. It’s the key to the curse, and she can’t do it, can’t name her Beth or Vivian or something else _wrong_.

Dad comes up the drive, then, and when Sefa finishes greeting him, Monster is gone. She and Dad have a quiet dinner, and the whole time Sefa is thinking of the monster under her bed, and what her name might be.

###

Sefa dreams she’s kissing Monster, that they’re in a summer field and giggling, hands on each other’s faces, breasts, hips. Monster uses her mouth, down between Sefa’s legs, and Sefa clutches at her hair, overwhelmed with the pleasure until she’s come with a cry that isn’t a name. She returns the gesture clumsily in return, wishing to be able to taste so it would feel real, until Monster reaches for her and she goes to whisper in her ear. “Why couldn’t it be the other way? In the stories, you would be human at night, so we could have this.”

Monster holds on tight, so tight Sefa can almost pretend she’ll feel the bruise later, but she doesn’t answer.

“I name you your own name,” she says as fiercely as she can, pretending she’s the brave girl her Dad always wanted. Brave girls can break curses. “I won’t make one up for you, I haven’t the right. The name you can’t say out loud, it’s yours.”

Monster smiles and whispers something in her ear.

###

“Freya,” Sefa murmurs when she wakes, long before dawn. There’s a human hand in hers.

* * *

**37.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur loves mornings.

He rolls over sleepily and feels his arm brush against warm, smooth skin. He smiles into his pillow and lets his arm wrap fully around Merlin’s waist, pulling him back into Arthur’s chest. Merlin, still mostly asleep, just snuffles into his own pillow and then burrows down, his back pressing into Arthur’s chest, hand curling up in Arthur’s and holding on.

Arthur loves mornings. Merlin has never been a morning person, where Arthur is almost always up with the sun, ready to get his day started. But there is always that small moment of time, each morning, that Arthur curls up with Merlin and just breathes. That moment when the sheets are warm from their bodies and the air in the room is cool around them. When it is quiet and lazy. When it’s just them.

And in those early moments, Arthur likes to press his nose against the back of Merlin’s neck and just _breathe_.

Merlin almost always smells like paint and peppermint and something that Arthur thinks is burnt toast. It was a strange combination, but it’s all Merlin, and Arthur loves it. He loves how pliant Merlin is, being manhandled into Arthur’s body and just fitting there like he belongs. Because he does. Merlin always belongs with Arthur.

It’s the mornings that Arthur likes the most. Especially this one.

“Happy birthday,” Arthur mumbles, his nose pressing against the softness of the short hairs at the base of his neck. His voice is a little groggy from sleep, husky. Warm. Arthur feels his body reacting to Merlin being so close to him. He tightens his arm around his waist when he feels Merlin’s hand twitch in his. “I have something for you.”

And it’s a little cliche, Arthur knows. But it doesn’t stop him from pressing his hips forward and letting Merlin feel the way his body is responding to being wrapped up in Merlin. His hard cock slips between Merlin’s naked cheeks, still wet from the night before. Arthur wants to growl in want, but refrains.

Merlin shuffles a little in his arms and then he’s pressing back into Arthur, his hips making a slow roll, and it’s obvious Merlin wants this present first thing in the morning, too. Arthur is more than willing to give it to him.

Arthur doesn’t even bother opening Merlin up. They don’t really have the time and Merlin is already loose, Arthur can feel it. So, with one arm tucked around Merlin, Arthur uses his other hand to guide himself into Merlin. He takes his time pressing inside, makes sure Merlin feels every inch sliding home, because even though they have a limited time to do this, Arthur wants to make it good for his husband.

Merlin mewls into his pillow and _fuck_ , Arthur has to move. Slowly, lazy, he fucks into Merlin and untangles their hands to wrap his palm around Merlin’s hardening cock.

This part of the morning is best, Arthur thinks, and continues to build up the pressure and speed into Merlin’s ass, fucking him open and stroking his dick. And in almost no time at all, with Merlin a little more awake, but mostly still asleep, and Arthur kissing along Merlin’s shoulders and neck, they come together, nearly silent moans falling from their lips and bodies shaking.

Breathing hard, Arthur smiles into Merlin’s skin and whispers again, “Happy birthday, love.” Merlin looks back at him, hair a mess and eyes half mast with sleep and grins.

“The kids will be in soon,” Merlin says and Arthur knows they will.

“Birthday breakfast in bed,” Arthur agrees.

They look at each other for a long moment and then Arthur leans forward to kiss Merlin long, gently and with purpose.

Ten minutes later, they’re cleaned up, somewhat dressed and sitting in bed. Six tiny feet can be heard coming down the hall with whispered, “Shhhh, don’t wake Dad and Daddy yet!” Arthur looks over at Merlin and smiles to himself when his eyes get wide and surprised when the kids come in, carrying a tray between the three of them.

Arthur loves mornings.

* * *

**38.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin

The candle on the nightstand and outside light signaled that it was a couple hours past dawn. He couldn’t see the sky from his bed, but it felt like the sort of day that needed to be rainy. Duty and responsibility demanded his attention but his head throbbed from too much drink the night prior and it was an unseasonably cool morning. Merlin was sleepy-warm and curled into him and their blanket was the perfect barrier against the chill.

Just a few minutes more.

When he next opened his eyes it was late morning and Merlin was reclined against the headboard reading. The constant tapping against the windowpane confirmed his earlier wish for rain and Arthur stretched, savoring the pull and strain of his muscles. The older he got, the better it felt. As if reading his mind, Merlin looked down at him, his eyebrow raised, and Arthur ignored him. 

He grabbed the scroll out of Merlin’s hands and tossed it into the abyss of the room while rolling on top of Merlin and pinning him to the mattress. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late,” he chastised, without any real heat or annoyance. It was rote by this point. 

“You’re prettier when you’re unconscious,” Merlin responded, his grin cheeky. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You are truly terrible at your job.” Arthur whispered into his ear, biting the lobe and kissing the underside of Merlin’s jaw. It was his favorite spot on Merlin’s body, and he couldn’t resist a quick salty-scratchy lick-kiss against the cut of his jaw. “I don’t know how I’ve managed to tolerate you this long.” 

Merlin’s chest rumbled with a snort and Arthur rolled his hips down against him. “I can think of a reason or twenty.” Merlin's hands slid up his back, their rough calluses a wonderful drag against his skin. He was still flush with his first full night’s rest in over a month and Merlin’s hands - his long, spindly fingers - brushed up his spine like he’d brush the flat of a sword. 

“Two reasons at the very most.” Arthur closed his eyes when those fingers reached the knob of his spine and pushed against the knots there. Merlin kneaded and rubbed at Arthur’s back without any real intent and Arthur was suddenly thunderstruck. Struck with lightning and cracked open with the realization that he _loved_ Merlin. Loved him in the loud, overwhelming battle of life and loved him in the quite, secret moments away from it all. Loved his stupid, too-large grin that made him look simple and loved the flash of his eyes when he was in the middle of an angry strop. 

An errant thought of what life would be like without his stupid, floppy-eared servant was like a knife to the heart and Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and buried his nose in the downy soft hair at his neck. “Stay,” he whispered. A stupid, indolent, barely heard plea, but a plea all the same.

Merlin’s fingers stilled and he shifted to cup Arthur’s jaw and draw him down into a kiss. It was a flutter-brush of lips, petal soft and without any heat, but Arthur pulled the promise from it. “Don’t be an idiot.” Merlin’s voice was as hushed as his own plea, but gentle and full of affection. 

“Just making sure you weren’t thinking of seeking other employment options.” Looking at Merlin was too bright, too much, and Arthur was certain that if he looked a second longer, Merlin would see every secret inside of him. 

“I’m _always_ seeking other employment options, but for some reason no one else is willing to hire a servant who’s terrible at his job.” The naked affection on Merlin’s face made him wonder if perhaps he was the last one to figure things out. Emboldened, Arthur moved in for deep, lazy kiss. It was the kiss of someone you’ve kissed a thousand times before with the hopes of doing it thousands more.

“You really are quite awful. I suppose it’s my civic duty to keep you on to protect my people from your vast ineptitudes.” 

“That must be it.” Merlin pulled up the covers that had slipped down Arthur’s back and tugged Arthur down to lay flush against him. He wrapped his arms around him and snuggled into his front. “I think we can manage one more hour away from it all, don’t you?” 

“Gods, you’re lazy.” But Arthur was already settling into him and closing his eyes.

* * *

**39.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin, OMC/OFC

There once was a couch, and she was very, very lonely. 

Even though she lived with her cousin the futon, her second-cousin-twice-removed the bed, and her grandfather ottoman in the used furniture store, something was missing. Her once-glowing leather had worn spots on the cushions, and the back sagged slightly. Her heart broke every time a pair of eyes barely glanced her way before moving on, usually walking out with someone better "for the back."

The couch hadn't always been lonely; she’d had friends back at the giant factory where she came from – other couches with endless patterns, shapes and sizes – her brothers and sisters. And then later once they’d waved each other off in giant shipping trucks, she’d had friends on the shiny display-room floor of the department store – a side(-kick) table, an art-nouveau lamp, and a carpet whose life mission was to get himself under her. Gross. Then she’d been bought by a young couple, just starting out, moving in together, full of hope and glee and joy as they hopped onto her and laughed, snuggling together before chasing after the salesman (George, who the couch had liked best of all, because he'd cared for her the most). 

The couch had spent a few good years with the young couple, proud of her place by the window in their small-but-cosy apartment. She'd loved feeling the sun on her dark leather in the summer, and the chill of frost through the window in the winter. 

The couple had used her well, they cuddled together and watched TV, read, hosted parties – or the aftermath thereof, a drunk guest or two sprawled out on top, clinging to her –, but most especially her memorable first night with them. They'd collapsed on her, full of warmth and lust, and had made love on top of her, bodies sticking to her new leather and each other, their moans of pleasure ringing throughout the empty room. They'd spent the night there later, letting her keep them safe. 

But the years wore on, and so did the couple's relationship, and soon they were moving on and moving out and neither could stand to look at the couch so they'd sold her for shared profit, and here she was. 

Or there she'd been, with the ottoman, and the futon, and the bed, because they were still _there_ , inside, and she was here, outside. She got moved early morning, under a giant white tent, along with many of the other undesirables, and she knew where she was – the Clearance tent. It was the last stop for furniture like the couch, or that cherry wood table with cup rings ruining its perfect tabletop. From here it was either a home (if they were lucky) – or a landfill, because no one wanted them anymore. 

The couch gave up all hope.

"What about this one?" A voice nearby had brought the couch back to herself after hours or days of hopelessness. 

"It’s old and used." Another voice chimed in, disdain clear.

"It's cheap, Arthur. It's exactly what we need." The owner of the first voice – a young man with a dark fringe sticking out from underneath his beanie sat down on her. On the rightmost cushion, one arm falling over the back, the other rubbing along the armrest. "Come on, you have to at least try it out."

The other man – Arthur – sighed, but joined the first, sitting on the most-worn middle cushion and wriggling around for a bit.  
"How do we know who had this before us, what they've done. Money isn't an issue, Merlin-" 

The couch was getting offended, listening to him, and she was thankful when Merlin interrupted, "You _promised_ I'd pick and pay. And if it bothers you so much, we can upholster it, or I can get mum to make us a cover. Isn't it comfy?"

Merlin slid his arm from the back to Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and the couch wanted them to never leave. She hoped as hard as she could, while Merlin used his own kind of convincing, kissing Arthur until they finally stood and Arthur said, "Okay, fine, we'll take it."

After that, the couch wasn't lonely anymore, not with Arthur and Merlin (and the endless ways Merlin proved her usefulness to Arthur – with his hands and his mouth, and his cock), the nice woven cover she got, and especially not with the shedding monstrosity of a cat who insisted on sleeping on top of her day after day.

* * *

**40.**  
 **Title:** Sleep Sweat Sex  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Somnophilia, ~~super slight exhibitionist?? Theyre recording the sex~~

He’d never get enough of this, when Merlin would wrap both arms around his chest, hauling him off his hands and onto Merlin’s lap. When he’d tug Arthur’s arm up and back, around his own neck to press wet and sucking kisses into the ticklish skin of his Arthur’s underarm, hips barely moving as he shoved up, up, up into Arthur. Loved how connected they felt, sweat all that was between their bodies, and how Arthur had only to turn his head a little to suck that salt off Merlin’s neck or have Merlin’s mouth on his, sharing the same pleasure, the same air, the same breath.

He loved how nobody else saw this Merlin. This passionate, sexy, vibrant, possessive Merlin who left his mark upon every inch of skin and bone and heart. Nobody else saw this strength, the force of Merlin’s lithe form as Arthur’s own moulded to its will, went where Merlin bid, and how if he reached back and cupped Merlin’s ass he’d feel that power, feel the muscles clench, feel that gorgeous cock drag against his insides, fat head rubbing against his gland and back to catch on his rim over and over and over, making his breath hitch and his eyes roll, shaking on unsteady knees but then there was Merlin’s arm, tight as a vice across his chest, mouth gentling to allow Arthur’s head to loll safe upon Merlin’s shoulder, golden hair darkened with well-earned perspiration. 

This was what he loved, when Merlin free arm slid down his belly, around and past his cock, to where his inner thigh flowed up into his groin, fingers hugging the straining tendon, nails scratching tantalisingly close to his balls before fingertips replaced them and the grip turned hard as Merlin shoved them upright onto their knees, using his twin holds to keep Arthur close as his lazy thrusts turned harsh and fast, Merlin’s breath punching out into the dark, fanning warm into Arthur’s throat, the headboard thudding out a thunderous tattoo against the wall. 

Merlin was always horny in the mornings, and Arthur was pretty much hot for Merlin whenever, wherever and however he could get his hands or mouth or cock near him so waking to Merlin mouthing at his cock, nails scratching his nipples to peaks, two fingers of the other hand hooked into the rim of his hole, pressing hard into the muscle causing the most delicious ache, was a fantasy he’d shared into the dark of their bedroom and Merlin was eagerly providing the reality. The little red light he’d spied glowing in the depths of the corner from atop their dresser betrayed the little addition Merlin had made; the camcorder they’d gotten before their trip to Greece recording every moan and kiss, every wet smack of skin and drip of sweat. Arthur groaned at the thought of watching the tape, of watching Merlin touching his slumbering self, watching Merlin tease and tantalise his prone body, seducing him into waking with that talented mouth and wicked hands, all up on their big-screen. 

He’d need a DVD too.

Arthur snagged his hand into Merlin’s hair, holding tight, as his other reached back to dig into Merlin’s ass, fingers grazing the crack, just for a moment feeling his fingertips graze the puckered skin of his lover’s entrance before his fingers skidded away on sweat-damp skin, pretending he was leaving his prints all over what was his, that if he pressed forcefully enough, those prints could never wash away, never fade like the bruises inevitably did, never leave Merlin’s body or heart. When Arthur couldn’t be there, when work called him away or Merlin’s patients kept him late that unique mark of Arthur would remain, claiming that endless pale skin, and every precious and dear thing it held, as his. 

Shuddering at Arthur’s touch, Merlin dropped the arm from around Arthur’s chest and mirrored his other hold upon Arthur’s groin, hands clamping onto Arthur’s thighs on that delicate skin, forefinger framing tight balls and thumbs rubbing up against Arthur’s shaft as he used his hands to haul Arthur back on his cock with every savage thrust, Arthur whimpering plaintively as he had to release his hold to blindly slap his hand onto the wall as each thrust threatened to topple them. He felt light-headed at the knowledge that in the right light, when the sun hit the paint just so, you could see a mural of handprints painted in sweat and oil, the marks of their love all over their flat.

* * *

**41.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

 

Just another lazy Sunday afternoon

Gwaine and Arthur stopped in their tracks when the dark-haired bloke pulled his t-shirt over his head, positioned it in the grass and flomped down on it, the football forgotten. 

“Damn, he’s hot.”

“Bit on the pale side.”

“But gorgeous.”

“I’m going to…”

“You will not,” Arthur interrupted him. “I saw him first.”

“Will you two get back to the game or shall we call it quits for today?” Percy yelled from the other side of their make-shift football pitch in the park and they both started moving again.

They ended their game a while later and said their good-byes. 

“If you’re not interested, princess…” Gwaine glanced at the dark-haired man who hadn’t moved in a while.

Arthur just growled and made his way over.

Damn, up close this guy was even more gorgeous. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, strong arms and legs. Obviously working out, but not overdoing it, just the way Arthur liked. And the black hair that curled slightly sweatily in the nape of his neck…Arthur swallowed hard. Without thinking further, he sat down, braced himself on one arm and leaned over to put a kiss on the hot skin. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, you’ll get sunburned.”

The man grumbled and rolled onto his back, his eyes slowly opening and blinking against the sun. He startled when he noticed Arthur next to him. “Err…wha…?”

“Fuck, you’re even hot when you’re sleepy.” Arthur grinned. 

“Hot…” The guy sat up and reached for his water bottle, not in the slightest startled about a stranger kissing his shoulder. Taking a sip, he made a face. “Warm as piss.”

Arthur laughed. “Let me buy you a cold water. I’m Arthur.”

“Merlin,” the bloke murmured and rubbed a hand through his hair, still trying to blink away the sleep. “You play football here every Sunday.”

“Yeah, we’re so good that you fell asleep watching us.” Grinning, Arthur plucked a blade of grass from Merlin’s arm. 

“Don’t care much about football.” A bit more awake, Merlin grinned and Arthur’s heart almost stopped. 

“What do you care about?” His gaze held Merlin’s eyes. 

“Some cold water right now. And a hot bloke later?” He got up, picked his t-shirt from the ground and shook the grass and dirt from it, only to fling it over his shoulder, looking expectantly at Arthur.

He was on his feet in no time and pointed over to the drinks stand. “Cold water that way.”

They didn’t talk much on the way back to Arthur’s place but the looks Merlin threw him made Arthur’s blood boil. As soon as they were through the door, he reached for him and pushed him against the door, kissing the lips that had been teasing him the whole time. And they tasted just as great as he had imagined, no, even better. 

A short while later, he had Merlin on his back on the bed and thrust into him frantically. There was no need to go slow, they both wanted this and there was always time for a slow and gentle repeat later. 

“Turn around,” Arthur ordered and slipped out.

Merlin didn’t ask questions and presented his firm butt. Arthur growled as he plunged in again, digging his fingers into Merlin’s hips and his teeth in Merlin’s shoulder. He tasted of sun and sweat and grass and…Arthur didn’t get to catalogue the other tastes and smells as his orgasm washed through him. 

He grinned when Merlin clenched around him and came, too. 

They lay panting and then Merlin chuckled. 

“What?” What’s so funny? Why do you laugh? Was I that good? But Arthur was too out of breath to ask these questions as he raised his head to look at Merlin.

“Next time, we should do it right there, in the park. Why waste so much precious time walking to your place?”

Arthur’s head dropped back as he groaned at the image. “You’re going to the death of me.”

“But what a way to go.”

* * *

**42.**  
Title: The Comatose Beauty  
Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin  
Warning(s): Non-con, since one of the participating parties is unconscious throughout the whole thing  
—  
It was a dumb way to get into the ICU, no matter how you looked at it.

One moment, Merlin had been sitting on the Ferris wheel, celebrating his 18th birthday like a six-year-old. Having a birthday party in their small town’s pathetic excuse for an amusement park was quite possibly one of the dorkiest things Merlin had ever done, but Arthur couldn’t help but love him for it. It was one of those little things that made his boyfriend who he was, and although he’d criticized him at the time, he would be more than happy to celebrate fifty of Merlin’s birthdays on spinning wheels in Funderland Adventure Park, if it meant that Merlin got to have fifty more birthdays.

Because one moment, Merlin had been sitting on the Ferris wheel, and the next, he’d been lying on the ground forty feet below, sporting three fractured ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion that sent him into a coma he hadn’t yet come out of, even after five weeks of hospitalization.

If it weren’t for the tubes in his nostrils and the IV on his arm, Arthur might have thought Merlin was sleeping, as cliché as that sounded. He was breathing steadily now ever since they’d gotten him off the respirator a few days ago. If he’d been the poetic type, Arthur might have described the delicate flush of his cheeks, or coral-pink colour of his lips. Indecently, he was not the poetic type. That’s why Merlin just looked gorgeous.

“Wake up, will you?” Arthur said aloud. 

Merlin didn’t reply.

“You can’t just… check out. No one’s going to let you get off easily.”

The silence that followed was enough to make Arthur sit down heavily in a hospital chair and bury his face in his hands. When he’d pulled himself together, he quietly slipped next to Merlin’s bed and leaned in, hovering above him for a moment before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss, but he lingered longer than he might have ordinarily, breathing in the scent of antiseptics and Lysol mixed with a trace of Merlin. Then Merlin sighed.

Arthur stiffened. It couldn’t have been anything, but just to be sure, he kissed him a second time.

Again, Merlin sighed.

A desperate need for a response, _any_ response, drove him to kiss Merlin a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. After each one, he was rewarded with the small, fragile noises that made his heart skip a beat. Out of habit, Arthur began to suck on Merlin’s bottom lip, just the way he knew he liked it, eliciting a long, breathy groan that he hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Merlin? Can you hear me?” he murmured fervently. “Say something. Please.”

But Merlin didn’t say anything. Before he could think about what he was doing, Arthur reached beneath the white sheets and up Merlin’s hospital gown, pressing a hand against his—

Arthur froze. He hadn’t known comatose patients could get erections.

He should have stopped then. He should have walked away, left the hospital, and driven home, where he would take a cold shower and go to bed. He should have, but he didn’t. Instead, he scrambled awkwardly onto the tiny cot and kneeled above Merlin on his hands and knees, tracing his fingers along the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh before finding his entrance and pressing in and — _Oh God_ , there was another groan. His own cock was pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his jeans by the time Merlin was ready.

“I know you’re in there, Merlin,” he whispered into Merlin’s shoulder as he pulled down his zipper and drew himself out into the cold hospital air. “Say something, you prick, please, don’t–don’t leave—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish, so instead he lined up with Merlin’s entrance and thrust inside. Quickly, he found a rhythm that had the boy beneath him twitching and shivering, and within minutes, it was all too much for either of them. When he felt Merlin come, his tight muscles constricting around him, he knew he was done for. Arthur followed suit, basking in a couple moments of white-hot orgasm that left him weak and shaking on top of Merlin’s hospital bed, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to the nurses. Luckily, he never had to. Their attention would be diverted by a dry, groggy voice coming from the head of the hospital bed.

“…Arthur?” said the voice. “Is that you?”

* * *

**43.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Somnophilia, dubious consent (YMMV on severity)

Merlin's a heavy sleeper. Arthur isn't. And Arthur, much as he might like to deny it because he somehow thinks it lessens his manliness, is a cuddler, tactile, seeks comfort in touch when something has awoken him - some panic or paranoia or nightmare. And so, when Merlin wakes in the early hours of the morning or in the middle of the night, it is often like this - with Arthur wrapped around him, his hand playing about Merlin's cock, drawing it to hardness almost unconsciously, his own nestled in the small of Merlin's back while he ruts. 

Arthur's gentle - gentle enough that Merlin can float in that dreamlike state between awake and asleep, and enjoy the warmth, the way he's cradled, the humming arousal curling around him from his fingers and toes and along his arms and legs, thrumming in his blood while Arthur's hand coaxes him to push back and forth. Merlin's eyes are closed, he almost wants this to be a dream, because it would be such a nice one, and he almost does fall back to sleep, until Arthur behind him moves, settles lower, and his cock slides down between Merlin's thighs - hot, slick-sticky, and undeniably of the real, waking world. 

Merlin moans, startled, starts to come to properly. But Arthur's hand on his cock is an anchor, stops him from jerking awake, and Arthur's hips hitch with a rhythm that's so familiar it quiets him.

Merlin is weighted down by blankets and quilts, and he knows from the prickling of the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears that it's cold outside the bed, but Arthur is a furnace, comforting and soothing, and the way they start to rock together is drugging, drowsing, all on its own. The wakefulness Merlin felt starts to ease again with Arthur's long-drawn out breaths at the nape of his neck, the wetness between Merlin's thighs growing as Arthur slicks himself through eagerness and stimulation.

Merlin could fall asleep like this, cradled and warm and cared for. 

Arthur's chest rises and falls against Merlin's back, though, and his breathing against Merlin's skin has turned to helpless kisses, has turned to the edge of teeth, and Merlin holds himself in and still and unresponsive except to how Arthur moves him, because as much as he loves this loose-limbed feeling he knows Arthur loves it _more_ \- loves that Merlin will let him do this, loves that Merlin feels safe enough with him that he doesn't even wake up when Arthur starts to need him like this, late at night and desperate. 

Even when Arthur's hand grows tight, insistent, urges Merlin to climax faster and faster, even when Arthur's hips shove, when his cock rides the soft skin of Merlin's bollocks with the burning heat of his leaking slit, even when Arthur's teeth stop being a sharp, shivery edge of _maybe_ and become a bite, fastened like an anchor above the highest knob of bone in Merlin's spine, Merlin still flops and floats, still takes it, because he's riding it like a wave and the hum of arousal is a buzz and a burn deep inside him now. 

He needs this. He needs Arthur to need him. 

He needs to come.

Arthur is shaking now, pushing and pushing and pushing until Merlin can hear the wooden frame of the bed creaking below them, and when Arthur lets go Merlin bites his lip against a whimper and does the same, unable to hang on any longer, and between them they are a mess, but they are a warm, sated mess.

That is probably extremely apt, Merlin thinks dozily. 

Arthur settles after that, still with Merlin wrapped in his arms, and he nuzzles and licks at the place he bit absently while his breathing evens out, and he slips towards sleep.

Merlin is almost completely under again when Arthur murmurs ' _God_ I love you,' in his ear. 

* * *

**44.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dubcon, Merlin is a monster-under-the-bed

Merlin notices the absence of rank socks before he notices anything else, back flat against wood flooring. Then it’s holy slippers, blue jeans, the thick layer of dust - all of it gone, and it seems the humans have cleaned.

Of course, that isn’t always the case, and he’s trained to consider as much, take in his surroundings carefully, no matter how many times he’s done a job, so it’s quite stupid when he flings himself out from under the bed, horns and claws protruding, and gets himself sliced in the guts with something sharp.

He has enough time to think _that’s not my human,_ and then he thinks nothing at all.

***

This human’s blond, and very different from the weedy man Merlin had thought to live in this place. He’s tall, broad across the shoulders. Strong nose, strong jawline.

He also hasn’t seen that Merlin’s awake.

Merlin tilts his head, neck twisted from the fall, and watches this blond man flit about his bedroom, muttering to himself in alternating pitches, riffling through one cardboard box and then another. He’s still got the pocket knife, blade flashing in the lamplight.

Merlin lets him drive himself mad for a minute, discreetly prodding at his middle to check that the wound’s sealed up, and then, when the man comes a little closer, heading for the box next to the bed and probably for his mobile, Merlin leaps up and takes hold of his shirt, ripping the back out in his swiftness.

He gets the man up against the wall, easy, a clawed hand to his chest. He smells good.

“You should be more careful with that,” he says, squeezing the man’s wrist until he drops the knife. “Could’ve stuck me somewhere vital.”

A few breaths pass between them, rattled and quick on the man’s part, deep pulls on Merlin’s, and the man’s gaze flicks up towards Merlin’s horns.

He should go. He knows he should. The humans are not supposed to get such good looks at them, certainly not supposed to talk to them, but then Merlin shouldn’t have shot out into the open as he had either.

He pulls his horns in, slowly, watching fear leave the man like he’s sprung a leak. So amusingly stupid, these creatures.

“I’ll kill you,” the man snarls, showing his teeth, and, gods, he’s pretty.

“Will you?” Merlin asks, pressing a little closer, and the man shoves at him, seems taken aback when Merlin doesn’t shift an inch.

“Let go of me!”

Merlin nods, twitches his brow into a small condescending frown. “I would,” he says, “but then you’ll go for your knife again and it’ll be messy. Or I’d have to hurry up and leave.” He leans in and takes another deep breath of the man, all along his neck, making him tense. “And I don’t want to leave yet.”

“What do you want?” It comes out a little strangled. A valiant attempt at sounding level.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asks, mouth against skin. This man had - he’d had a wank just before Merlin had shown up. He’d pulled on his cock and shot off all the way up where his hair starts to curl behind his ear, right where Merlin presses his nose.

“I - I’m not -”

“Come on,” Merlin whispers, moves down, gives him a kiss under his chin.

“I don’t - what are you -”

“I just want your name.” Merlin kisses him under his bottom lip this time. “That’s all.”

“It’s Arthur,” the man says in a rush.

“Arthur,” Merlin repeats and rubs, just a little, against Arthur’s leg. “I like you, Arthur,” he says. “You’re a lot better than my last human.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about - Just - go back to wherever you -”

Merlin moves quick and cups his hand over Arthur’s cock. “Were you tugging on this earlier?” he says into Arthur’s ear. “I can smell it. Didn’t do a very good job cleaning up.”

Arthur hisses, jerks forward. “What the fuck - you -”

“What did you think about?” Merlin goes on, slotting himself nicely, cock right up against Arthur’s knee. “Think about girls?”

Arthur’s head clunks against the wall.

“No?” Merlin rubs harder, rolls his hips. “Boys? You think about boys, Arthur?” And he’s willing to bet Arthur does if the jerk in his trousers is any indication. “Think about a nice cock in your arse? Sliding into someone else? Getting them all slick?”

“God,” Arthur gasps, confused and high.

Merlin hums lowly. “Think about licking them out?” he asks, hums again. “I want to lick you out.” And then he’s coming, sending himself over on Arthur’s knee, already thinking of the next time he’ll come out from Arthur’s bed. Maybe he won’t wait.

* * *

**45.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin clutched the sheets and bit his lip, trying to suppress the moan that was trying to escape past his lips. He was being bent over almost half, his thighs being held wide apart and the heels of his feet were hooked over Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur who was, as usual, almost crazy with the haze of lust, thrusting into him like his life depended on it.

He could see the sheen of sweat covering Arthur’s face and could hear the whole room being filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, skin slapping against skin, and the mattress creaking beneath them. The only thing that was missing was the thud of the headboard against the wall.

It might’ve been here by now, the constant thud thud thud, but they weren’t in their room, in the bed or in their flat; it was a cheap budget motel they rented for the night after getting lost in their supposedly epic gay road trip around the ‘world’. When in actuality they just got on the M1 and Arthur, the idiot, didn’t take the left turn and here they are in the middle of nowhere after five hours of driving non-stop and bickering all throughout. 

Point is. This stupid bed was making things worse, or better, whichever you see them. Arthur was channelling all the frustration and tension of all those five hours, in bed, but said bed isn’t cooperating.

They both love it when they fuck each other hard enough that the bed literally rattles with them, but that is not happening and Arthur’s showing the tell tale sign that he might be losing his energy by now.

Merlin groaned at the idea of not getting off. This was a bad idea. They were both tired and angry and they should’ve let it rest for next morning. But nooo, they just had to rip each other’s clothes the moment they closed the door. And now, Arthur and if Merlin was being quite honest with himself, was losing his rhythm and all Merlin was thinking at the moment was he needed sleep. Now. 

So, Merlin pushed Arthur away and Arthur, surprisingly, relented and slumped face down beside him, groaning like he was in pain as he pulled out of Merlin, and they both just breathed in taking all the oxygen in the air.

After a few minutes of just taking their breath, Arthur looked at Merlin with amusement in his eyes.

‘We just stopped in the middle of sex’

Merlin chuckled, ‘I guess there’s a first for everything’

‘I’m exhausted’

‘Me too’

‘To be continued then?’

‘To be continued’

Arthur threw his arm over Merlin and pulled him closer before snuggling into Merlin’s neck and breathed him in. Merlin just sighed tiredly. ‘This whole road trip idea seemed like a brilliant one when it was still in my head’

Arthur was barely awake as he mumbled a jumble of words into Merlin’s skin before snoring softly.

Merlin woke up harder than he could remember himself be, and with two familiar fingers inside him, already stretching him open, and he let out a very obscene moan when they hit right on his pleasure point.

‘This is sexual harassment,’ Merlin gasped when he felt Arthur thrusting in a third finger.

All he got as a reply was Arthur’s deep chuckle, and a kiss to the back of his neck, before he lost every coherent thought except Arthur Arthur Arthur

And then he came. Loudly. A splitting familiar pain on his head before he passed out.

* * *

**46.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Lack of consent due to being asleep

Merlin felt like he had been asleep for days when he finally felt the sun creep through his window _without_ it giving him an instant headache. ‘An unusual infection’ Gaius had said, when he’d first tumbled into bed feverish. The potions Gaius had forced down his throat to break the fever must have finally helped, as he felt much better than he had in weeks. 

Getting up he instantly noticed the silence. The sun told him it was already past mid-day, yet he couldn’t hear the usual noise that accompanied the comings of goings of life at the citadel. When he found Gaius asleep, headfirst on a pile of books, a creepy suspicion started to grow. He ran outside, taking in the sight of guards scattered left and right, asleep, Merlin realized, not dead, and he found that knowledge at least should reassure him. But when he didn’t find a single person awake in the entire castle, Merlin couldn’t be more worried. This was magic. It most certainly was. 

He quickly ran up to Arthur’s chambers, because clearly this had Morgana written all over it; she must have cast a spell so that everyone would be asleep and nobody could stop her killing Arthur. 

But he found Arthur, safe and sound, though fast asleep like everyone else. 

Back in Gaius’ studio he found the book he was slumped over was a spell book, opened on the page of a spell to wake someone. Obviously Gaius had had an inkling of what was going on. Merlin tried the spell and on his third try he succeeded.

“Merlin! Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Gaius cried the instant his eyes opened to see Merlin. 

“What’s going on? Why is everyone asleep?” 

“It’s you, Merlin. Your magic went wild while you were feverish. It started with the prince. Arthur was the first to fall asleep and nobody was able to wake him. Others followed. All the while your eyes were glowing, even though you were asleep.” 

“I was casting a sleeping spell in my sleep?” Merlin asked bewildered. 

Gaius nodded, “It would appear so. Whatever the reason, it’s something to do with Arthur. Something your magic believes you want but Arthur is only to give to you while he sleeps. Find a way to…” Gaius fell forward again and Merlin jumped when he heard a loud snore. 

He cursed, trying the spell again but it didn’t work. He was on his own.

***

He looked at Arthur and wondered what reason he could have had to send him into an endless sleep. The king looked peaceful asleep, Merlin often wished he could take away his troubles. Trouble had a way of finding Arthur no matter where he went. Maybe rendering him asleep Merlin wouldn't have to worry about losing him all the time. Merlin could stand guard for his Once and Future king for centuries if he had to, but that can't have been what his subconscious wanted.

His subconscious had already given its answer, as he realized he had unknowingly started to caress Arthur’s hair. And wasn’t that what he wanted - Arthur, his to touch, his body to explore, further than the sneaking lingering touches as he got the king ready for his bath. 

Once Merlin gave into his subconscious, he gave into it fully, removing Arthur’s bedclothes with quick, urgent hands and rubbing his face against his crotch. It smelled like Arthur but stronger, heady, undeniably erotic. Any doubts Merlin may have had about following through were gone. He sucked Arthur’s limp cock into his mouth, pulling back the foreskin with his lips to tongue the tip. He kissed sloppy wet kisses all over Arthur’s cock until it started to harden. Encouraged, Merlin increased his suction, moving his mouth up and down over Arthur’s erection. 

Arthur moaned, his eyes were still shut but he was definitely responding, bucking into Merlin's mouth. Merlin's hart started pounding in his chest - It was working!

Wanting more, Merlin dipped his tongue lower, into the dark, musky hole. He knew he was simply taking everything he could. But Arthur’s body was coming more and more alive, muscles clenching and cock twitching. 

Merlin closed his mouth around it again, knowing it wouldn’t be long now. 

“Merlin!” Arthur gasped as he came. 

Merlin’s own orgasm took him by surprise, spilling over his hand; he closed his eyes against the intensity of it. When he opened them again, he found Arthur staring at him, eyes shrouded with arousal as he looked at Merlin in wonder. 

* * *

**47.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** none

If you ask Merlin, he was ever the innocent in this scenario.

It is a peculiar twist of fate that found Morgana in his bed. Her nakedness exposed to him. Wild passion fueling both their lusts and need for power, satisfaction. Golden light shining from their eyes as they find that the other knows now they are of magic-born, the love did not decrease as they tumble into bed the next night.

With a knock at the door, Merlin sits up in bed, covering up Morgana his miniscule blanket, when he hears the voices of Gaius and Arthur speaking downstairs in raised voices. Deftly, he silences Morgana with his finger as he hears Arthur shout, “I know you’re here, Merlin. Everyone at the tavern told me you haven’t been there tonight.”

Morgana gives Merlin a look, mouthing the words, Tavern, really. She smiles a cool smile as she reaches to kiss him again, but she holds off as Merlin shakes his head, saying, “This is not a good idea,” pointing behind him, he adds, “not with Arthur downstairs.”

This elicits a little laugh from Morgana, she rolls her head back and pulls Merlin towards her stifling his protests with her tongue. Whispering against his mouth, Morgana murmurs, “What are you so afraid of? Arthur can’t hurt me.”

No, she is right, Arthur cannot hurt Morgana, but he could hurt Merlin. All of the cruel ways Uther taught Arthur to hunt down magic users and kill them for practicing would be nothing to defacing the ward of the King. His legs quaking as he hears Gaius trying to console Arthur with his usual stories. The tavern is shot to hell now, but the collection of fireflies was a new one.

A rush of night air tells Merlin that Arthur is quite put out at this new gently woven tale, and he shouts up the stairs, “I may be dense Merlin, but I’m not stupid. If you are hiding a girl up there, I will find out about it,” even though he couldn’t see Arthur, he knew he must have this funny look on his face, “even the most trained prostitutes don’t know how to conceal their love bites half so well.”

Arthur slams the door behind him, and Merlin looks over to Morgana with fear. Her face giving nothing away as she pulls her nightgown back and starts to collect her other items thrown across the room, it would not have been a good time to tell her that bending over the way she was made him as hard as a rock. The mood however is officially dead.

Nothing would be able to fix the inevitable rift that is to come between as Arthur’s breath of air sucks the life out of everything. Prince Stick-In-The-Mud, King Clotpole, the ruler of all, dictating the very nature and behavior of his subjects.

Like so many times before, Morgana looks at him with a little sadness—that pleading for help—she aches for release, but the hand is holding a fist over his heart as he balances that tightrope wire under his feet. He whispers, “I shouldn’t be afraid for you. Forgive me.”

Those words fall on deafness as Morgana leaves without turning around, her retreating figure leaving traces of angst on Merlin’s heart.

* * *

**48.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dub-con, somnophilia, breath play (sort of), (magical) bondage

 

For a few seconds after he wakes up, Arthur expects Merlin to tumble into his chambers with his breakfast precariously balanced on a tray like he always does... but then the warmth beside him reminds him that yesterday, he finally relieved Merlin of his manservant duties once and for all.

He grins happily into the pillow and turns his head to look at the darling idiot who lies beside him, half wrapped over his back, face close to Arthur’s own. He’s sleeping peacefully. Leaning in, Arthur gives him a kiss on the nose.

“’At the ‘ell?” Merlin mumbles, swatting with his hand at something not even close to where Arthur were a second ago. Not so strange, since he doesn’t even open his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy,” Arthur whispers, leans over and presses a kiss to Merlin’s ear. He can feel Merlin shiver slightly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re ready for today’s activities.”

“’At’s that?”

“Oh, another meeting with the council, making your first public appearance before the city, an audience for those petitioning Camelot’s help... You know, the usual business now that you’re officially Court Sorcerer -- _and_ your beloved King’s consort.”

“’Uck. You.” Merlin whines into the pillow. “It’s too early.”

Arthur laughs. “It is. Go back to sleep.”

At that, Merlin actually opens an eye and glares at Arthur. “You saying you needn’t have woken me up yet? Are you insane? Who does that to their supposed loved one?”

Arthur actually laughs at that. “Someone who has been teased by his clotpole of a manservant for years? Payback’s a bitch, Merlin, love.”

And then he turns his back on Merlin’s scandalised face, and promptly falls back asleep.

***

When he wakes up next, his splayed out on his stomach feeling... rather content, although he can’t think of why that is. But when Merlin’s laboured breaths ghost the shell of his ear, he realises what’s happening.

It’s the amazing feeling of Merlin’s long, thin fingers curling inside his arse, working him open like they’ve done many, many times before. But never like this, never has Arthur _woken up_ to that sensation. He tries to move a hand, stroke Merlin’s thigh to show him that it’s appreciated, when he becomes aware that he can’t move.

That’s new and strangely exciting. 

Merlin must be holding him down by magic. Huh, handy. Closing his eyes, Arthur concentrates on nothing but Merlin’s fingers and breathing. His cock grows harder, pressed between the bed and his stomach. It’s responding eagerly to Merlin’s talented fingers filling his arse but because of the magic, Arthur’s unable to rut against the coarseness of the sheet to gain friction. It’s both hot and frustrating.

Does Merlin even know he’s awake? It doesn’t seem that way... He doesn’t talk incessantly like he normally does.  
After a few more strokes, Merlin removes his fingers from the tight warmth and straightens up. Arthur lets out an involuntary groan.

Merlin laughs softly. “You shouldn’t have woken me up that early, Arthur, _love._ ”

That’s a rather nasty imitation of Arthur’s earlier try to give Merlin a pet name, but he can’t help but huff out a laugh anyway. It turns into a gasp when he can feel Merlin’s cock nudging his entrance.

“Mer--”

“Shh,” Merlin lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans forward over Arthur’s back again, “That’s okay, though, because nowadays I can just take what I want as payment for missed sleep.”

Arthur lets out a loud groan when Merlin pushes into him. His eyes water as he squeezes them shut again, unable to show his appreciation for Merlin’s cock and hands in any other way.

The thrusts are anything but gentle and Arthur fists at the sheets, turns them into balls when Merlin grabs his hair, forcing him head-first into the pillow, making it difficult to breathe.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Arthur gasps for air when Merlin roughly pulls his head up again. He gets thirty seconds to breathe in as much oxygen as he can before he’s pushed down again.

It doesn’t take much more than that. His yells are muffled by the pillow as he comes virtually untouched. One, two... three more thrusts and Merlin groans before collapsing on top of his back. They both breathe heavily, Merlin lovingly caressing the nape of Arthur’s neck.

“So...” he says eventually, “Don’t wake me too early.”

“Merlin. If this is what happens, I’ll never let you sleep late ever again.”

* * *

**49.**  
 **Title:** Dreams  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** It’s sex with someone who is asleep during a dream but they wake up within the dream before the actual sex…so possible dub-con…maybe?

Merlin visited Arthur in his dreams. They started just after the funeral where a priest banged on about how amazing Merlin had been, how much he’d be missed. 

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You shouldn’t be so sad.”

 

“You’re gone.”

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Gwen tried to cheer him up by dragging him to the park but he didn’t like the sun’s warmth or the scent of lake and grass without Merlin there next to him. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Morgana told him to get over it already, but she also ran her fingers through his hair so he didn’t listen. 

 

/ \ / \

 

He dreamed about Merlin every night. 

 

They were at the park. Arthur was leaning against a tree with Merlin using his thigh for a pillow and pointing out shapes in the clouds. 

 

“It’s okay to move on with your life,” Merlin said. “It’s what I want.”

 

“I just want you.”

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Eventually, he had to pretend to be better. He had to go back to work and shop for food. He went back to running before breakfast every morning. He occasionally went to lunch, or dinner, with his friends but they never quite stopped looking at him with worry. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Arthur started going to bed earlier so that he could dream. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Merlin was burrowed under the blankets. Arthur pulled the top one off but Merlin clutched tightly at the rest, still asleep. Arthur would just have to go the other way. He slipped down beneath their blankets until he could slide between Merlin’s knees. Arthur kissed the inside of Merlin’s knee but he didn’t even twitch. Arthur smiled against the smooth, hairless skin beneath his mouth and slowly moved up. He licked and nipped and kissed all the way up Merlin’s thigh. Arthur could see the gap created by Merlin’s growing interest and smirked when he felt the muscle beneath his mouth tense. 

 

Arthur stopped and went down to the other knee. He made his way up this thigh more slowly. He could tell Merlin was awake now but his husband was trying very hard to hold his reactions. Arthur enjoyed teasing Merlin but more than that he liked to win. He rose up and wrapped his mouth around Merlin’s balls. 

“Shit, Arthur!”

 

Arthur pulled back from Merlin to laugh. “Yes, Merlin?” Then he set back to work, licking and kissing his way up Merlin’s cock robbing him of his will to speak. 

 

Merlin slid his fingers into Arthur’s hair. 

 

“It’s been too long,” Merlin panted. “I missed you.”

 

Arthur froze and Merlin’s hand curled down over his cheek. 

 

“Arthur, I’m right here.”

 

Arthur shook the half formed memory away and dedicated himself to making Merlin’s cock as wet and slippery as possible. Merlin’s fingers continued to clutch, pulling Arthur’s mouth down with gentle fingers. 

 

“Arthur,” Merlin hissed out. “Please.”

 

Arthur moved one hand up, slid a finger into Merlin’s mouth and moaned around his cock as Merlin made it wet. Arthur pulled it back down and used it to circle and then push into Merlin. Merlin arched up, his cock nudging at the back of Arthur’s throat. Arthur pulled his mouth away and Merlin pushed the blankets off until he could see Arthur. 

 

“You’re not going to fuck me, are you?”

 

Arthur smiled and kept moving his finger inside Merlin as he slowly slithered up Merlin’s body. He kissed him, open mouthed and needy, before he pulled his finger away, straddled Merlin and sunk down onto his cock. 

 

“Tight,” Merlin gasped. 

 

“You know I never open myself up as well as you do,” Arthur said moving on Merlin’s erection. 

 

Merlin slumped back for a few rolls of Arthur’s hips and then reached up, one hand curling around Arthur’s hip, the other gripping the back of Arthur’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. 

 

The first press of Merlin’s lips made Arthur remember. 

 

The police visit. The distant sympathy. The funeral. Arthur froze but Merlin kept kissing him pulling him back into the moment. 

 

“I’m here now,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s lips.

 

Arthur nodded and kissed Merlin again and then began to move. His hips rocking more slowly than they had the last time…their last time. 

 

Merlin’s hand wrapped around Arthur’s cock. 

 

“I want to last.” Arthur tried to push him away.

 

Merlin shook his head and started meeting Arthur’s thrusts pushing them both closer. 

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Arthur panted out just before his orgasm took him. 

 

/ \ / \

 

Arthur woke – his sleep pants covered in come. Then he cried. 

* * *

**50.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

He swiped a thumb lightly over the black strokes, smudging them into a soft sweep of dark lashes. A dab with the eraser and a few deft retouches with his pencil around the cleaned spot became a glimmer of moisture on full lips parted in sleep. A hint of sharply angled cheekbones to the side, edged with the suggestion of tousled curls... enough.

Morgana came in from the pool, scrubbing her hair as carelessly as though she hadn't spent an hour that morning fussing over it. But it had done its job anyway, if that languid smile and Gwen's sheepish glance at them as she trailed in after Morgana were any indication.

"Does Merlin know you're drawing pornographic pictures of him?" asked Morgana, letting her meaningful gaze stroke down Merlin's sleeping figure, sprawled over the daybed, long limbs spread open like an offering, an invitation to debauchery.

Gwen blushed, started to stammer remonstrance; Arthur only smiled, his conscience clear. "Of course, I asked for his help," he said, blandly beginning a new sketch, this one taking full advantage of Merlin's pose. 

But only the outline, tracing the way his limbs bent, the sweet curve of his back, leaving out the details Arthur really wanted to keep -- the hipbone peeking from the pale triangle uncovered by his rumpled tee and loose boxers, the beginning of the line of hair leading downwards... Enough.

"I don't want to know what you and Gwen got up to in the pool," he offered as a return volley.

Morgana sneered, and strolled out. Gwen blushed darkly and foll owed her, giggling a little. He began on another fragment, a masculine, graceful hand gripping a silk scarf wrapped taut around the wrist. He could imagine the other end of the scarf secured to the bedframe he left out. 

Satisfied with the bound hand, he started again. Curled toes, a slim foot, and the delicate array of bones suggested beneath fine skin and flesh, up the slim, hairy calf tense with orgasm.... He stopped at the knee scratched by a fall from a bicycle last week, and looked up to see the gleam from Merlin's slitted eyes, watching him.

"Hey." Arthur cleared his throat. "When did you wake?"

Merlin's eyes slid shut for a few seconds, and Arthur thought he might have gone back to sleep. Then he let out a soft moan as his body rippled, flexing with a subtle stretch that left him in the same position. "Morgana," Merlin said simply. "How is your art class going?"

"Awful," he confessed. "I do wonderful landscapes and still-lifes. But my humans. My anatomy and attempts at foreshortening are not terrible. But I can't put all the pieces together, unless you're talking Frankenstein's creature." 

Merlin blinked slowly, still not fully awake, absorbing. "Faces?"

"Great with Barbies or Ken faces. Terrible when I try actual expressions." When Merlin started to shake his head, frowning, Arthur added, "Do an O-face for me ."

There was a pause while Merlin digested the word, trying to figure if he really heard what he didb then he laughed aloud and screwed his features into a terrrible expression. "Like this? That's my O-face."

"All right, hold that look, very good," Arthur praised, grinning as Merlin took a moment to absorb the words, then dissolved into giggles. "Beautiful!"

When Merlin had calmed down, he stretched again. "Mind if I turn over? I want to lie on my stomach."

"Go ahead, a new pose will be good," Arthur said. He held his breath while Merlin flopped over and shuffled until he was half-curled around his stomach, the small of his back revealed to Arthur's avid gaze. The swell of his buttocks strained subtly against his boxers, more fodder for Arthur's pencil.

Nothing would show in his book, should Morgana or Merlin decide they wanted to see what he was drawing. All incomplete fragments, mixed in with pieces of other people -- Gwen, Lance, even Morgana -- not enough to give him away. None of the images in his imagination of Merlin bent, spread, gasping for air, hand on his hard cock or fingers up his arse, made it to paper. Not the ones with him swallowing Merlin down while Merlin's full lips stretched around his... Arthur knew when to stop.

His breath had quickened, marginally. Lying as though asleep, Merlin's veiled eyes glittered, watching him in return.


	3. Group C (with warnings)

**51.**  
 **Pairing: Merlin/ Arthur**  
 **Warnings: none**

The first few times it happened Arthur was willing to overlook it as a reaction to Arthur’s recent illness and the stress of the Questing beast incident; no matter how confused Merlin appeared to be waking up in Arthurs chambers each morning curled tight in the seat facing Arthur’s bed.

The third time it happened and Arthur awoke wrapped in long limbs with his face pressed against Merlin’s he called for Gaius. 

***

“What’s wrong with him Gaius?” Arthur asked. (“Nothing, you prat! Nothing is wrong!”)

“It’s nothing serious sire but it appears Merlin has developed a mild sleep disorder,” Gaius answered. He raised an eyebrow in Merlins' direction. “I’m afraid you’ve been sleepwalking around the castle each evening, perhaps in an unconscious attempt to ensure the prince’s safety.”

If Arthur were a young girl or a romantic he would have melted at this theory. Instead he punched Merlin in the arm before glaring him into submission.

“I’m not a girl Merlin! Do I need to remind you I’ve been trained to kill since birth!”

(“It’s not my fault if I’m not awake while I’m doing it!”)

“Don’t worry sire, I’ll keep an eye on him tonight,” Giaus pacified, “Though you should take his key to your rooms, just to be safe.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” Arthur agreed, still glaring.

(“Hey! No! That’s my key!”)

***

When the sound of the door stirred Arthur awake that night, he wasn’t surprised. If living with Merlin for the past year had taught him anything, it was that Merlin never did what you wanted him to. Apparently he didn’t even need to be fully conscious to ignore Arthur’s plans.

“We’re going to have a talk tomorrow about how contrary you are to your betters,” Arthur grouched, as Merlin climbed into the bed next to him, snuggling up to Arthur’s side. “And how the bloody hell did you get in anyway? I took your key!”

Merlin mumbled something incomprehensible into Arthur's shoulder, lips dragging against bare skin, sending tiny frissons of want along Arthur’s spine. Arthur sighed and began trying to detach himself from Merlin's tentacle like grip before surrendering to the inevitable and rolling over to get some more sleep.

***

Merlin awoke feeling more comfortable and refreshed then he ever remembered being. His morning erection was rubbing against something warm and smooth causing the most delicious friction while he had a nice warm weight in his hand that was in obvious need of squeezing. It only took him two tugs and somebody else's long moan to realize that the cock in his hand wasn’t his own. He definitely wasn’t in a dream where he had two dicks and was instead in bed with another person whom he was, quite shamelessly, feeling up.

With some trepidation he opened his eyes to the uncompromising morning light, praying that he hadn’t somehow fallen into bed with King or, even worse, Gaius.

As frozen in fear as he was, it was something of a relief to recognise the drapery above him and realise he was in bed with the prince. 

“Don’t stop now Merlin, you tease,” Arthur groaned breathlessly, “I swear to god if you’re sleep- wanking me right now I might just kill you.”

Merlin laughed, rolling over to plant his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck as he began to nip and lick his way across the prince’s collar bone. “What’s the matter sire? It sounds like you need to relieve some tension.”

Arthur growled before pouncing, planning on doing just that.

And if Merlin spent the night in Arthur’s chambers from then on, well that was just sensible.

After all someone had to keep an eye on his sleepwalking. 

* * *

**52.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

As soon as they get home Arthur takes a seat in the couch in the front room. Merlin goes to make tea.

 

“Merlin, are you ever going to clean up around here? There’s so much rubbish around. You may be used to living like a pig, but-”

 

Merlin doesn’t react to the abrupt unfinished statement. He was used to it by now. He still finishes making the tea and brings it out to Arthur. 

Arthur’s head is bent forward and it bobs up and down as he sleeps. Merlin grabs a soft fluffy red pillow and puts it behind Arthur and gently moves Arthur’s head back. 

For once Arthur wasn’t exaggerating. The place really was a sty right now. Merlin bends down and begins to tidy up. He may have complained to Arthur before, but he generally does perform the duties of a housekeeper/assistant. 

Arthur’s father Uther had hired him to be a companion to Arthur and look after him and make sure Arthur had someone there for him when incidents happened, like the one at the coffee shop. Uther had hired Merlin after a somewhat highly publicized incident after Arthur had fallen asleep at the wheel and caused much damage to a building at Camelot University. 

He grabs a couple of cups and as he’s walking at of the room he hears Arthur moan slightly. This is not something that is very unusual. Arthur has vivid dreams and sometimes mumbles in his sleep.

Another moan, breathier than before stops Merlin in his tracks. That was a sound he hasn’t heard before. The sound stirs something inside him. He turns back slowly and watches as Arthur begins to gradually writhe against the black leather couch. 

 

Merlin can’t help himself as he puts down the stained, empty cups and walks towards Arthur. He slowly takes a seat beside him. For two months now, Merlin has done a very good job at hiding his true feelings for Arthur. Arthur may be condescending, arrogant, and stubborn but he is the most beautiful thing Merlin has ever seen. And despite Arthur’s best efforts, living with him Merlin gets to see the small moments of vulnerability that come through every time Arthur wakes up disoriented and unsure of where he is. 

 

For someone with such a need for control, having a condition like this tears at Arthur’s soul. It’s one of the reasons Merlin loves challenging him. There’s a fire and spark to Arthur in those moments that isn’t there otherwise. It’s the real Arthur and Merlin craves his presence more and more. 

 

Arthur’s hands begin to roam over his chest as he practically humps the air. Merlin aches to touch him.

 

Arthur’s mouth falls open and he licks his lips. “Oh...Oh, Merlin...”

 

It feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. Did Arthur just...?

 

“Merlin, please...”

 

Yes, yes he did. “That’s my name.” Merlin breathes out. He almost smacks himself in the forehead at the lameness of that comment. 

As Arthur’s hands slowly trail down further south, Merlin’s gaze follows the journey and he feels another gut punch when he sees the tent in Arthur’s jeans. 

 

“Merlin, please don’t stop. I need you.” 

 

Merlin’s lust is muffled momentarily at Arthur’s words and the ache in his voice. He sounds so desperate and needy. In that moment, Merlin thinks he would give Arthur just about anything.

Merlin finds himself reaching out to him. But before he can touch Arthur, he startles when Arthur’s eyes fly open. He quickly withdraws his hand. 

“I just had the most intense, fascinating...” He swivels around and faces Merlin. “...dream.” 

 

He’s still panting and Merlin looks down quickly. He knows his face must be an embarrassing shade of red. 

 

Merlin looks up briefly when Arthur gasps. Arthur is looking down at his erection. 

 

“It was just a dream, Arthur. It’s okay. I’m just going to leave. I’m sorry.” He tries to get up, but Arthur’s hand on his arm stops him.

“I know why I have an erection Merlin but...why do you?” Arthur’s eyes widen as he stares at Merlin’s crotch.

 

Merlin peers down at his lower half and gapes in shock. How had he not realized he had gotten hard? No wonder he was so dizzy with all of his blood flow going to his nether regions.

 

He tries to leave again, but Arthur’s hand tightens on his forearm.

 

“I’m not imagining that, am I?”

 

Merlin is surprised at the hopeful tone in Arthur’s voice. “No.” Merlin says in a tiny voice. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I don’t know what’s come over me. And I’m so-

 

Arthur shushes him. “Merlin, if you say you’re sorry one more time...” He licks his lips and moves a bit closer to Merlin. “Do you want me, Merlin?”

 

Merlin knows he should lie but he doesn’t know how to with Arthur staring at him with such naked want and need. He just nods once. 

Arthur grins wickedly and eyes Merlin with predatory lust. He kisses Merlin and pushes them to the floor. 

 

The responsible side of Merlin wages a brief war with the part of himself that is desperate to bury himself in Arthur so deeply that he will still feel him for days afterwards. He pulls back. “What if you fall asleep?”

 

Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand and places it firmly against his crotch. “I can assure you I am very much awake Merlin. I don’t think I’ve been this awake in a very long time. Now if you don’t mind will you please shut up and fuck me?”

 

Merlin looks into Arthur’s eyes. The look Arthur gives him bears no more questions. This is one demand Merlin is happy to oblige. He flips them over and kisses Arthur gently before thrusting his tongue in Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur grinds against Merlin. “Merlin, please...I need you.”

 

Merlin wastes no more time. He sucks on two fingers and gently prepares Arthur. 

When Merlin finally enters him,Arthur gasps and Merlin pauses, but when Arthur moves back to take more of Merlin in, Merlin knows it’s safe to continue. He places a hand at the small of Arthur’s back to keep him from moving and slowly presses forward. 

 

Arthur is keening and clawing at the carpet. Every time Merlin pushes in he cries, “More.”

 

Finally Merlin can’t hold back and spreads Arthur’s cheeks as he begins to drive in with hard and deep thrusts. 

Arthur presses his forehead against the carpet and sighs.

After two more deep thrusts Merlin comes. Arthur comes just seconds later.

After a moment, Merlin pulls out. His come slowly trickles out of Arthur’s hole and he licks at it.

Merlin gets a wet paper towel and cleans them both up. He tries to pick Arthur off the floor but Arthur pulls him down instead. He wraps his arms around Merlin and Merlin rests his head against Arthur’s chest.

 

“Do you think I might possibly sleep all the way through the night?” Arthur asks as he trails his hand through Merlin’s hair.

 

Merlin frowns slightly. He wishes he could tell Arthur that everything was okay, but he knew that wouldn’t be right. He looks up at Arthur and gives him a crooked smile. “Probably not.”

 

Arthur nods. He doesn’t look as if he’s been defeated. “That’s okay. I know that as long as I wake up and you’re by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He holds Merlin tighter.

 

Merlin grins and kisses Arthur’s chest. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.” Arthur doesn’t say anything. Merlin peers up and sees Arthur is asleep. He has a huge smile on his face. 

* * *

**53.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** dubcon (if you squint); major character death 

He waited until the castle was asleep, as he always did, before stealing his way into Merlin’s chambers. There, upon his downy bed, Merlin lay deep in slumber, still clothed in the plain garments he insisted on wearing though his station had improved long ago. A candle sputtered on the table in the corner next to a pile of books. Another small tome was opened on the bed, just beyond the reach of Merlin’s lax fingers. 

Arthur snorted. Merlin had been studying again and had probably exhausted himself. As court sorcerer and royal physician, now that Gaius was gone, he’d been busy trying to find a cure for the latest plague: a terrible ailment that had swept through the lower town and now threatened the Kingdom at large. After all these years he was still very much Merlin, however, falling asleep on the job. 

Arthur crept closer and sat next to Merlin on the bed. Streaks of grey at his temple and fine lines around his eyes made Merlin’s face even more handsome and distinguished than he’d been when they’d first met. As if aware of Arthur’s presence, he shifted and turned to his side. 

“Hello, Merlin.” Arthur petted back the greying hair and rested a hand on Merlin’s chest, just over his heart. 

“Mmmph.” Merlin mumbled and moved closer to Arthur. 

Merlin’s breathing quickened, and his face flushed slightly. For a moment, Arthur worried he may have caught the pestilence, but then he noticed the substantial tent in Merlin’s trousers. He must have been having an interesting dream, indeed. 

Even though he probably shouldn’t, Arthur stretched out alongside Merlin, so that they were hip to hip. Merlin’s aroused length strained against the fabric, and slowly, so slowly, Arthur reached between them and stroked, feeling pleased when Merlin whimpered and moved his hips. A rush of life warmed Arthur’s chest. He nuzzled closer and breathed in Merlin’s scent, and then stroked him again.

When they were young, Arthur had longed for this often. He told himself then that duty and honor forbade it, but now he could admit it had been his own fear holding him back. He didn’t have that fear anymore, so when Merlin’s lips parted, Arthur wasn’t afraid to lean forward and brush them with his own. He rubbed the ridge of Merlin’s manhood through his linen trousers and wished—oh, how he wished!—that there was nothing between them at all. What he would do then. He would press his lips against the heated flesh and let his tongue trail down to the coarse hairs below. And when Merlin shuddered and released, he would kiss the dampness away. 

Merlin’s face grew pained. He let out another whimper, a frustrated sound, and clawed at the front of his breeches. Arthur held him tighter, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He whispered soothing things, but Merlin continued to undulate his hips and pull at his laces until they loosened. Freed from its restraints, his aroused prick jutted against Arthur’s thigh. 

Arthur stared at it, longing to taste it, to bring Merlin the pleasure he deserved. He watched as Merlin took himself in hand and rubbed, uncoordinated in sleep, panting out his need and desire, and yet he could do nothing. Merlin shivered as he released onto the bedclothes, and Arthur held him, and he wished he could say all of the things he’d never been able to say. 

He wished he could say he had been here, always, even though Merlin had long believed the spell he’d hastily uttered on the banks of the lake had been a failure. An impulse borne of grief and desperation, it had drawn Arthur’s spirit back from the brink and tied him to Merlin even as the bier carried his body to Avalon. But if Merlin knew, he would hate himself for robbing Arthur of his rest, and Arthur would never get him to understand that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, even if the touches he could offer were no more substantial than a breeze. 

Sometimes, though, he was sure Merlin could hear him. “There, love, that’s it,” he whispered as Merlin’s face softened and relaxed. His hand fell away from his spent cock. “Sleep now.” 

He would stay here, proud of the Kingdom he’d founded—and that Merlin had protected and nurtured with his magic. He would stay and watch over Merlin until he, too, joined Arthur in his final rest.

* * *

**54.**  
Pairing(s): Elena/Gwaine, Elena/others (Gwaine/other)  
Warnings: Open relationship

Elena’s fingers whitened against the counter when he slid inside, slowly spreading her open around his cock. It was almost too much to take, bordering on painful in a way that made her gasp for breath. She fogged up the bathroom mirror as she clenched around him, the sheer size of him making it feel like she was being touched in places no one had ever touched her before.

The conversation that carried on outside the bathroom seemed to be about footie and she nearly laughed at how she’d never cared less about Chelsea and Mourinho in her entire life. But the sound got stuck in her throat as he – Percy – dug his hands into her hips and moved.

He moved. Which meant that his giant cock filled her up until she felt the pulses of pleasure in her toes. Crying out, she pushed herself back on him, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he fucked her boneless.

Part of her wanted to rip the condom off and feel him fill her up as he came, but that was against the rules and she would always obey the rules, no matter what. Even if she was being fucked so good she could barely think straight.

She couldn’t stop looking at the picture they made in the mirror, his face slack as he looked down between them and her breasts bouncing every time he hit that spot that made her skin feel like fire.

He braced himself against the sink and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, angling her hips into his thrusts until all she could focus on was the slide of him and his breath against her neck. She hunched forwards, whining sharply as she started shaking apart.

****

Pulling her shirt over her head, she stepped closer to the bed and toed out of her shoes. The covers were cool against her heated skin as she slipped under them, her hands finding sleep-warm skin. She hooked her arm around his waist, snuggling against his back.

He stirred, breath no longer shallow with sleep. Pulling back, she let him turn toward her, giving her a sleepy smile.

“Had fun?” Gwaine asked, voice deep and scratchy like it always was after he woke up.

“When isn’t Freya’s fun? Vivian was hammered beyond belief.” She rested her head against the pillow.

He hummed, his hand resting at her waist before sliding down over the curve of her hips, thumb rubbing circles on her thigh.

“Did you find anyone?”

She met his eyes and nodded, biting down on her lip. “Freya’s colleague. He was... " She paused. “Huge.”

Gwaine’s lips quirked, his hand moving between her legs. His fingers brushed over her folds where she was still wet and used. “Did he fuck you good?”

“Yeah.” She smiled against the pillow, cheeks flushing a little. “In the bathroom, in front of the mirror.”

She gave a strangled moan, muscles tensing a little, as Gwaine slipped two fingers into her.

“Did you let him fuck you bare? Come inside you?”

Leaning forwards, their breaths mingling, she shook her head. “You know I didn’t.”

He took her lips in a bruising kiss, tongue hot and demanding. Melting into him, fingers curling around his bicep, her hips pushed into his touch. She rocked on his fingers until a shiver ran down her back.

“Yeah, that’s only for me,” he said, breath hot on her lips. “He probably wanted to feel you, fill you with his come, but he can’t.”

She hummed, smiling. Even if their relationship was an open one, she loved that it was possessive too. That there were things that belonged only to them even if Gwaine regularly fucked Morgana over the desk at his office – even if Mithian licked her until she screamed. Some things were only theirs, and would always be theirs.

When Gwaine’s cock pushed into her without warning, she threw her head back and moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Did he make you feel good?” He whispered in her ear as he fucked her, thrusts deep and steady, into the bed - their bed, their space. 

Remembering the feeling of Percy spreading her open on his cock, fucking her against the mirror, she nodded, breath shaky.

“Good.”

Gwaine nuzzled against her cheek as he came, filling her with his come, her heart thudding in her chest. Her orgasm was more like a breeze than a storm, leaving her content and warm when she curled up against his chest.

* * *

**55.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** semi public sex

Merlin wakes with a start, the sound of an explosion flooding his senses as well as a deep pressure on his groin area. He blearily blinks his eyes open and, as soon as he comes to himself, he realises he’s fucking fallen asleep whilst on his date with Arthur. He’s never been a fanatic of movies; he prefers reading, but that’s so fucking embarrassing nonetheless that he doesn’t even want to move so as not to draw attention to himself. He doesn't know what Arthur’s going to think of him now, Merlin doesn’t want Arthur thinking he’s uninterested in him, god, he’s been wanting to have a chance with Arthur for ages, he can’t believe he’s fucking up now.

He sneaks a quick glance towards Arthur, who has his eyes glued to the large cinema screen, but his focus is elsewhere though. It’s only then that Merlin realises Arthur is fucking palming his cock through his jeans and he’s getting hard. 

He takes a deep breath, squirming slightly on his seat now as Arthur’s hand cups him and strokes intently, sending a thrill down his spine. Obviously Arthur is paying as little attention to the movie as Merlin is, for which Merlin feels glad, and apparently he’s got other plans to spend the time they are here in if the gentle rub of his hand back and forth is anything to go by. 

When it starts to get a bit unbearable and he just wants to fuck his hips to Arthur’s hand to feel more of the heat of it, he turns his face to his shoulder and lets out a shaky breath, looking at Arthur through half-lidded eyes and whispering, “Arthur.”

Arthur moves his head sideways to look at him in the eye in the darkness and then, somehow, manages to undo the button of Merlin’s jeans and pull the zip down so he can get his hand inside. 

Merlin can’t help feeling very aware of where they are and that there’s people around them, even if the room is pretty empty. He thinks he’s going to slip from the seat and onto the floor when Arthur’s fingers wrap around his dick, so he grabs at Arthur’s arm hard and bites his bottom lip to stop himself from doing any sort of embarrassing noise. 

“I can’t believe you were falling asleep,” Arthur says, leaning in closer to brush his lips over the shell of Merlin’s ear. “You chose the movie.”

_Shit_ , Merlin thinks, _shit_. Of course Arthur would’ve noticed. “I wasn’t,” he tells him, trying to deny it. “I was just, um,” he breathes hard. “fuck. Um, resting my eyes for a second.”

Arthur hums, and then _squeezes_. 

“Shit, Arthur,” he says, louder than he had intended.

A girl in the row behind theirs makes a hushing noise at them, but Arthur ignores her and only shifts closer so their faces are almost touching. “You’re so wet,” Arthur murmurs. 

Merlin wants to roll his eyes but it’s too much hard work right now. “Not a girl, y’know.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna come in my pants so . . . you could - stop. Like, now.” 

Arthur chuckles softly against his ear and the girls behind them make impatient noises. 

“I can stop,” Arthur whispers. “But only if we leave right now and continue this at my place.”

Merlin can’t say he’s not excited, and he doesn’t want to seem desperate; only he _is_ , so he closes the distance between them and slots his lips over Arthur’s, who responds immediately, licking slowly his way inside Merlin’s mouth until Merlin feels like he’s going to melt right there. 

When they pull back, Merlin smiles and with a huge grin, says, “Deal.”

* * *

**56.**  
 **Pairings:** Arthur/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Incest? (Author did not warn.)

Morgana didn’t remember falling into bed. The drive home was fuzzy, and everything after they reached her door was completely blank. She should have been disoriented and confused when she woke in Arthur’s arms, but she felt too good to let it bother her. She’d fended off the hangover by matching each drink with a glass of water, and the sun was only a pink and orange dab against the gray dawn. Arthur had one arm around her and she had her head on his shoulder. Technically, it wasn’t the first time she shared a bed with Arthur, but it was the first time since they were eight or nine. 

She knew she should pull away from him, but he was warm and firm and her body fit so nicely against his. She couldn’t bring herself to move or even nudge his arm from where it locked over her shoulders. She nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent of beer and aftershave, sleep and sweat. She didn’t mean to disturb him, but his eyes fluttered open. He regarded her for a long beat, then reached up and brushed the heavy curtain of hair away from her face. 

Morgana tried to wish him a good morning, but something about the way he looked at her stilled her tongue. Gradually, she became aware that he was hard, and instead of being horrified by lying beside her brother’s erect penis, she felt a responsive stir between her legs. Why had he ended up in bed with her the night before? Why was he looking at her like that now? 

Without a word, he pulled her over onto him, the ridge of his cock against her damp panties. He pushed his hand between them, his fingers fumbling with the material until it disappeared, and they were skin against skin. 

Morgana stared down at him, her breath caught in her throat. She was slick, ready for him. She wasn’t stopping him. Not even when she felt the nudge of his crown against her folds. All she had to do was shift her weight, and she did. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, with the tequila still swimming through her system and the new morning sun shining in her eyes. 

She moaned, the sound lost in a hard kiss as he filled her. Maybe this was a dream. It felt like a dream. She was weightless, bodiless, floating above everything as he lifted his hips, thrusting into her with each breath. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders, getting drunk again from the whiskey fumes on his breath. 

When she woke up again, her legs were tangled around his and the blanket covered their bare skin. She was still on top of him, and his hand was flowing over the waves of her hair and down her spine. 

“We can pretend it was all a dream,” Arthur offered. 

Morgana shook her head. Her dreams always turned into nightmares. She wanted this to be sweet forever. 

* * *

**57.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Morgause  
 **Warnings:** Non-con

 

Gwaine whistled aimlessly as he guided his horse down the trail on the way back to Camelot. Or, rather, the horse guided itself, for which Gwaine was grateful. With a few pints already in his belly and plenty of time on his hands he wasn’t overly concerned about his current condition, just that a fine pub sat on the very edge of town and he would be most welcome. He could toss back as many pints as he wanted and bed all the ladies he desired and maybe even a bloke or two if he wished. Cheery thought, that.

It was most unfortunate that he had all these plans going through his head instead of paying attention when the horse misstepped. It fought to recover itself but Gwaine jolted, knocking himself off balance as the horse scrambled for purchase on the rocky trail. His foot slipped from the stirrup and, careening wildly, he fell off the horse and tumbled down the hill, branches smacking and tearing at his face and hands as he tried vainly to grab hold. 

He hit with a thump against a tree and unfortunately with his head, knocking himself out cold. Also unfortunately, he was seen by the last person he would’ve wished to find him.

But then, that had been her plan all along.

***

“Drink this.”

Gwaine winced as his head was lifted and a cup of warm something, was pressed to his lips. He was laid back against soft pillows. It was then he realized he was in a bed. He also realized he was naked, and tied down. And, a woman with long blonde hair stared down at him. 

Morgause. 

Gwaine fought against his bindings but it was no use. He fell back against the bed. “What do you want?” 

“You.” Her hand trailed up his bare thigh, brushed against his cock. It twitched in response, betraying his anger. “Surely you aren’t afraid?”

“Witch.”

“You’re no innocent yourself.” She leaned over him. “All I need is you, just once.” She smirked. “Surely that would be enough for a man of your reputed prowess?”

“For what?”

“To get me with child, of course.”

He barked out in laughter. “Not in your dreams.”

“But we’re in yours.” 

She slid her cloak off. She was naked underneath, her body golden, perfect. Her breasts were round and full, the blonde patch between her legs beckoning. He smelled lavender as she drew closer to him, then realized it was entwined in her hair. He gulped, his body responding despite the fierce tugs against his bonds. He bucked against them but she grabbed his cock in a firm, knowing grip, silencing him as she stroked him, making him harden. 

He closed his eyes, gasping as she slid on top of him, taking him into her hot, wet folds. She moved on top of him, encouraging him to move with her and he found himself responding. He couldn’t stop himself, the tethers around his wrists fell free and he gripped her by the hips, grinding her onto him, then reaching up to cover her breasts with his hands, pinching her nipples and making her cry out. She dropped her head back, her body hotter than fire as she consumed him, coming as she cried out again. He lost it then, pulling her close to pound relentless into her until he too came. They rode the waves together, all the while _you fool, this is witchcraft_ raced through his head.

“It is done.”

He fell back into the pillows, exhausting, his head swimming and the smell of lavender surrounding him.

***

“Hit his head pretty hard, didn’t he.”

“He must’ve been out for at least a day.

“Wake up, Gwaine. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Percival. And Merlin? Gwaine tried to think. His head pounding, he opened his eyes to look into his friends’ faces. It was then he realized he was at the bottom of the hill. 

He looked down at himself. “I’m not naked.”

Merlin laughed. “Not hardly. What happened?”

Gwaine shook his head. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. “Fell down the hill and hit my head. I was asleep. That’s all.”

Percival held his hand out. Gwaine let him pull him to his feet. Morgause hadn’t taken him captive, hadn’t stolen his seed. It’d all been a dream, nothing more. 

He almost believed it, but for the single lavender twig he then pulled from his hair. 

* * *

**58.**  
 **Pairing:** Uther/Merlin, implied Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Non-con, underage (Merlin is 17)

_"Merlin's drunk," Arthur had said, sheepish. "Could you drive him back?"_

Uther could. Merlin - the smart-mouthed, quick-witted Merlin, who always followed Arthur around with a dedication worthy of a better cause - was now quiet and soft and pliant. He let Arthur maneuver him into the passenger seat, giggling softly into his shoulder but otherwise saying nothing.

Uther watched the proceedings, waiting patiently for Arthur to fasten Merlin's seatbelt. Arthur leaned over his friend to whisper something, too quiet for Uther to catch. They were very close, and for a moment he wondered...

Arthur straightened.

"That's the best I can do," he said. "Merlin, behave."

"Mhmm," Merlin said, his eyes already closed.

He was fast asleep by the time they made it out of the city centre. The road was empty and the light was sparse, periodically casting Merlin's features in a sharp, yellow glow, only to fade again.

It struck Uther just how attractive Merlin was while he slept like that, instead of scowling in Arthur's general direction. He had sharp cheekbones, long and dark eyelashes and the shape and colour of his mouth would lead a straight man to doubt his resolve.

He looked peaceful, relaxed. Inviting--

Uther hit the breaks, narrowly avoiding crashing into the car before them that stopped at the red lights. 

He was stressed out and overworked. He had been alone for too long. He will not, _would not_ take out his frustrations on a sleeping schoolboy.

Merlin chose that moment to stir, setting himself more comfortably in the luxurious leather seat. He ran his tongue over his lower lip - his small, pink tongue - and sighed. Whatever it was he was dreaming about must have been pleasant, because his lips stretched into a faint, private smile. 

The lights changed. Uther drove on.

They left the city behind and ended up following a narrow country road, dark and silent and deserted. Uther tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept his gaze straight ahead but it was a lost cause. He was already hard.

He didn't know what, exactly, was going on between his son and Merlin. Some days he was sure they were sleeping together; others, their relationship seemed wholesome and platonic.

He wondered if Merlin even liked men. If he liked Arthur.

The cottage came into view and Uther parked the car in front of it. All the windows were dark - either Merlin's mother wasn't home, or she was already asleep.

He should wake Merlin up. He _should_. But he didn't move, watching Merlin's face in semi-darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing.

What made him reach out, Uther didn't know. His intention was to shake Merlin awake. But he was shocked to discover how soft Merlin's skin was, how warm to the touch; soon he was running his fingers over Merlin's face, tracing his cheekbones and drinking in the sight of his lush lips.

Before he could stop himself, he was leaning in. He was close enough to smell the alcohol on Merlin's breath. The leather seat creaked when he moved, and he was afraid the sound would startle Merlin awake.

He needn't have worried. Merlin was still unconscious, his face small and delicate in Uther's hands.

Oh, what he would give to have Merlin properly, in his own bed; how much he could teach him; how lovely Merlin would look beneath him, or on his knees, Uther's cock fucking into his pretty mouth, the boy whimpering and begging for more; how wonderful it would be to see him sleep tangled in white sheets, to spread his legs and push into him, make it the first thing he feels when he wakes, hard cock between his legs and hot come spilling on his thighs...

He was jerking off like a teenager, one hand cupping Merlin's cheek, mouth ghosting over his lips, planting soft kisses there. His breathing was shallow and laboured, his wrist cramping, unused to the angle or the urgency.

When he built up to his climax he was kissing Merlin full on the mouth, the boy unresponsive but wonderfully soft. Uther was sprawled basically on top of him, his cock aching. He came harder than he did in ages, loosing himself in pleasure.

He heard Merlin whisper something when he was drawing back; he looked down, on his own filthy hand, his cock softening in its grip; and was, for a second, horror-struck.

He cleaned himself up and woke Merlin. Merlin was groggy, his steps hesitant, but Uther didn't offer to help.

He drove away, pretending it was all a dream, a stupid fantasy. Pretending it wasn't Arthur's name he heard Merlin whisper; and that it wasn't jealousy he felt.

* * *

**59.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Illicit wanking?

Most of Merlin’s life has been spent waiting. Waiting to find his father, waiting for a prophecy to come true. Waiting for Arthur to wake.

*

At first Merlin thought Arthur had died in battle. His breathing had stopped, his skin gone pale and cold, but faintly Merlin could feel Arthur’s heart beat. He sat with Arthur, crying at the edge of the lake for days. There was no change in Arthur’s condition.

After a while Merlin returns to Camelot to see how his friends have fared. He finds Gwen on the throne, strong as ever. He lays Arthur below the castle, keeping him close and safe.

He researches for a cure, but Gaius’s books hold no answers. There’s a vague mention of a sleeping curse resembling Arthur’s happening decades ago. It’s only a few kingdoms over, so Merlin decides to travel there in hopes that he can learn more. It hurts to leave Arthur alone, but he needs to save him. The search yields no results. Merlin has never been so frustrated and heartsick.

*

Centuries pass with no change.

Merlin works for a medical researcher now, still hoping for a cure. He lives just outside of the city on a small farm. Arthur rests in the bedroom across the hall on an ornate table Merlin purchased specifically for him. He almost looks alive lying there – skin a bit paler than is healthy, but his hair is still golden.

Merlin visits him every morning when he gets up for the day, every night when he gets home from work. He strokes his hair, touches his cheek, his lips.

It’s almost like those tales of sleeping princesses, though in this case a kiss does not wake Arthur. Merlin tries countless times to no avail. After his last unsuccessful attempt, he thinks maybe it’s because while he and Arthur had love and shared love, maybe he was not Arthur’s True Love. The thought makes his heart clench and his lungs burn for breath.

*

Merlin remembers the time he and Arthur shared while Prince and Manservant – the heated looks and casual touches giving way to nights spent in Arthur’s bed laughing, teasing, enjoying each other’s bodies. He thinks of those nights now looking at Arthur’s still beautiful face. The first time Merlin got on his knees for Arthur. The first time Arthur did the same. The first time they joined in a rough embrace.

He reaches down to palm himself at the memory. The way Arthur had undressed him slowly at first, then quickly, desperately. He had prepared Merlin with great care though his movements were unpracticed and clumsy at times. He had slicked himself up when Merlin began to whine and plead to be taken.

Merlin feels that desperate now, grinding his hand against his cock, hoping to find some relief. He comes remembering the way Arthur smelled, the way he tasted. He’s desperate to have him again.

He looks at Arthur’s face again, still there’s no change.

So Merlin will continue to wait.

* * *

**60.**  
 **Pairing:** Hunith/?  
 **Warnings:** Non-con of the incubus variety. 

 

Hunith is dreaming, of that she is sure. 

A man comes to her bedside – but not a man, something about his face is different, indistinct, not normal. She doesn't find this disturbing, possibly, she thinks, because its a dream. 

The man pulls the cover from on top of her, and she gets gooseflesh from the chill air. The man moves and sits on her. She can't move her arms or her legs. Hunith takes a deep breath, and even that is difficult, it hitches on the way in. 

The man strokes her face once, and she slows her breathing in response. 

Her skirts are pushed up and she blushes, unused to being on display. The man kisses her, breath hot against her lips. 

The man slips between her legs, which move without her permission. She hitches another breath. 

The man says something. Hunith doesn't understand it but it soothes her.

He uses his fingers, presses into her sex and gets her wet before slipping into her. He groans, guttural as he starts to move in her. The angle is awkward, and it feels uncomfortable. Hunith tries to move, but she can't – she's still stuck, pinned by invisible hands. She is afraid now; the man's face becomes less human, but the look of lust contorting his face is unmistakable.

She wants to move, to have some control, something and she can't. She tries to shout, but her mouth refuses to open. The man says something again, and Hunith finds her vision clouding, the images drifting away from her. 

**

She wakes the next morning. The dream is still at the edges of her mind. It's the scariest dream she's ever had but she pushes it out of her mind. It doesn't do to dwell, not on things that aren't real. Besides, she's got bread to bake. 

Hunith doesn't think any more of it until she finds herself with child, and no father in sight. The villagers look at her and whisper. She packs up her things and loads up a horse. 

She stops at a small village and visits the local healer. Hunith whispers her story, and the old woman looks at her with clouded eyes. The woman takes Hunith's hands in her own, rubbing, thumbs over the lines of Hunith's palms. 

“Do not worry, my child. This is destiny, and you will cope, and it will be for the good of all.” 

The healer refuses to say more, and Hunith moves on, thinking that the healer has spent too long in the tavern. She stops outside the church, wondering if she needs the words of a holy man. The cloudy sky finally breaks, rain falling in large drops. Hunith decides to find shelter for the night instead.

Ealdor welcomes her with open arms. They assume the worst happened to the father, and she doesn't correct them. 

She gives birth to a beautiful baby boy, calls him Merlin. He's in his fifth summer when he makes a fire using only his mind and a gold flash of his eyes. Hunith is shocked, falls to her knees next to him. 

Merlin looks up at her, half-questioning, half-afraid. Hunith pulls him into a hug, and remembers her dream. 

* * *

**61.**  
 **Pairing:** OT4 (Merlin/Morgana/Gwen/Arthur)  
 **Warnings:** None

"You what?"

Gwaine laughed at Merlin's expression. "Don't go all over red, now. I got the idea from Lancelot, and you know how straight-laced he is."

"Lancelot?" Merlin squeaked.

"Yeah." Gwaine spread his legs and leaned back in his chair, idly scratching the inside of his thigh. "Said he likes Elena to plug him up before bed, then when he wakes up with morning wood, she and Freya ride him one after another 'til he can't take it anymore and goes off like a rocket."

"Freya? She's just rooming with them while her mum..."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" Merlin put his face in his hands. "We've been mates since we were _twelve_. How am I the last to know?"

"For a fellow in a four-way with three of my hottest friends, you really are dense."

"I really am," Merlin agreed.

-+-

When Merlin got home, Morgana was holding an unlit cigarette between two fingers and glaring at a box of patches. Merlin decided not to invoke Gwen's name unless it got dire.

"So," he said, aiming for nonchalant. Morgana's eyes immediately flicked to his, assessing in a way that made his insides squirm.

"Never mind!" he beat a hasty retreat into the second bedroom.

-+-

Morgana watched Merlin scamper off, then unlocked her phone.

"Gwaine. What new perversion did you tell Merlin?"

-+-

Gwen liked shopping with Morgana. Especially when it involved presents.

"And Arthur agreed?" she asked, tucking her arm into Morgana's.

Morgana smiled, all teeth. "It _is_ Merlin's birthday on Saturday, after all."

"Meaning Arthur wanted to but needed an excuse."

Morgana smiled and pointed to one shelf of the sex shop. "I suggest we start small."

-+-

Friday night, Arthur wobbled into the bedroom already in his boxers and crawled between Gwen and Merlin. Merlin pulled his head briefly out from under the pillow, but he was so blissed out from one of Gwen's magic blowjobs that he couldn't focus.

"Arthur?"

"It's nothing. Go to sleep."

Merlin did, drifting off so quickly he barely even noticed when Morgana slipped into bed a few minutes later and twined her legs with his.

Throughout the night, though, Merlin noticed that Arthur woke often, and even when he was sleeping his body was restless, bumping into Merlin on one side and Gwen on the other, twisting and rolling like he wanted to fuck the bed. His full cock, not stiff but swollen, rubbed up against any part of Merlin he could reach, and if Merlin weren't so tired from a ridiculously long week, he would have woken Arthur up and demanded they do something about it.

But instead, he rolled over and offered his arse for Arthur to rub against in his sleep.

-+-

Morning. Bright light filtered through the curtains, and Merlin groaned and rolled over. His groan was echoed by Arthur, rasping and deep. Merlin rubbed sleep from his eyes and blinked, staring.

Arthur was sporting a deep red erection, verging on purple at the head, and his whole body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He lay on his back, clutching his cock, his eyes shut and a look of pained bliss on his face.

Merlin tried to breathe through a sudden rush of blood south.

"Good morning," Gwen said from Arthur's other side, her tone deep with laughter and desire. "Need a hand there, Arthur?"

"Guinevere," he moaned, and she took pity on him, rolling up to kneel on either side of his hips. Morgana tossed her a condom, and she rolled it on Arthur one-handed, using her other hand to push her sleep-shirt (one of Merlin's, actually) up high enough that she could sink right down on him. They both shuddered, and Merlin whimpered at the sight.

"Did you... all night?" Merlin asked hoarsely.

"What do you think?" Arthur snapped, then groaned as Gwen twisted her hips on a downstroke. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, mesmerizing.

Merlin felt sweat blossom on his skin as he imagined Arthur letting Morgana put in the plug last night, then staggering to bed with it wedged up inside him, how he must have driven himself half-crazy as he rolled around in his sleep.

Morgana pressed up behind Merlin and hummed softly, squeezing a handful of Merlin's arse, then tracing his hole lightly with a finger.

"Think you'd like to try tonight?" she asked.

" _Yes_ ," Merlin breathed, as he watched Arthur arch and bellow and come and come and come, Gwen still riding him hard.

* * *

**62.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** light D/s, bondage

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin whispers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur murmurs into Merlin’s ear, guiding his hand under the waistband of Merlin’s pyjama pants. 

“Stop it,” Merlin hisses. “Gwaine’s here.”

“Gwaine’s sleeping in the living room.”

He trails a line of kisses over Merlin’s shoulder.

“We live in a loft. There are no walls between here and living area.” 

Merlin tries to wriggle free, but Arthur shoves his hand fully inside Merlin’s pyjamas and starts stroking Merlin’s cock. 

“You just need to be very quiet,” he whispers.

“Arthur…” Merlin starts, knowing too well he won’t be able to resist, not with the hand moving right how he likes it, driving him mad mere seconds after the first touch.

“Hush, love,” Arthur whispers. “You can’t stop doing all these noises. You need help, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for Merlin’s answer and reaches under the bed. Merlin’s pulse quickens. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Merlin whispers, last attempt at sensible thinking.

Smooth fabric teases his lips and Merlin opens up automatically.

“Good boy,” Arthur murmurs, putting the gag in place. 

He pulls Merlin’s pants and T-shirt off, pushing Merlin to lie on his back. Licking a trail down Merlin’s body, he sucks the head of Merlin’s cock into his mouth, Merlin’s hips arching of the bed.

Pushing him back down, he nudges Merlin’s legs apart, massaging around Merlin’s opening, his fingers wet with lube. He sinks two fingers in, fucking Merlin with steady strokes, aiming precisely for the sensitive bundle of nerves. Merlin reaches for his cock, but Arthur bats his hand away. 

“Nothing like that,” he whispers and fastens cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, tying each one of them to a bedpost.

He drags something cold over Merlin’s stomach. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, bucking up when Arthur fills his hole with the cold object. His favourite dildo, Merlin realizes. He’s breathing through his nose, eyes clenched shut, riding on the waves of pleasure, when he hears the creak of a sofa followed by a sound of footsteps. He stops moving, holding his breath. 

The door to the bathroom creaks and clicks shut. Arthur speeds up his movements. 

“You were worried he’d come here, weren’t you? He’d see you like this, helpless, completely at my mercy.”

Merlin swallows a whine that threatens to escape his throat.

Arthur slows down his tempo during Gwaine’s return. Merlin’s close, so close. He needs just a little push.

“Not yet,” Arthur whispers, recognizing the distinct pre-orgasmic breathing pattern.

Merlin thrusts his hips up in pointless attempt to gain some friction.

“Maybe I should just ask Gwaine to come up here and watch.”

Merlin’s rhythm stutters as he tries to fuck himself on the now motionless dildo in Arthur’s hand.

“Hmm… You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Arthur murmurs.

Merlin bites harder into the gag, throwing his head back to stop himself from begging.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

Merlin doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of the dildo before Arthur is pushing inside, all the way in in one smooth thrust. Hitting Merlin’s prostate over and over, Merlin can’t stop the small muffled moans from spilling past his lips. His belly is sticky with pre-come, sweat covering every inch of his body. 

“Come,” Arthur says.

Merlin closes his eyes and tightens his muscles around Arthur’s cock. He wants to obey, but it’s not enough.

“Don’t. You. Understand?” Arthur whispers, accentuating each word with a particularly hard, precisely aimed thrust. “Come!” he orders and Merlin loses it, coming hard.

 

oooxxxooo

 

Coming down from his own orgasm, Arthur collapses on top of Merlin’s pliant and blissed out form. He rolls off him after a moment and unties his bindings. They kiss lazily, Merlin’s eyes barely open.

“Okay?” Arthur asks.

“Okay,” Merlin says.

Arthur pulls him closer and murmurs his ‘good night.’

It’s completely quiet for a few seconds.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind watching next time,” Gwaine says.

* * *

**63.** Pairing: Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dub-con that comes with somnophila

It had been a year since Arthur had come back and Merlin still couldn't sleep.

Not for lack of trying though. He had spent hours upon hours nestled up behind Arthur, willing his own eyes to close while he traced the line of his back and ribs. 

Sometimes Arthur would blink awake when Merlin ran his fingers over his jaw, fuzzy, and whisper, "Can't sleep?"

Merlin would just shake his head and Arthur would slide back into unconsciousness as Merlin stayed, as always, awake.

He was used to it by now. The last time he slept was in 1918, exhausted after using magic in the war. Sleep had grown less and less each night until finally he was just lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

He gave up after the first year, and finally wrote that book he always wanted to write, scribbling away in the gray hours of the early morning.

But when Arthur came back, everything changed.

Arthur was clearly normal, and perfectly human. He had laugh lines and bad knees. He could sleep up to 12 hours a night if Merlin let him.

Merlin gently ran his thumb over the curve of Arthur's eyelid, watching the air puff in and out of his bare chest. 

Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on the curve of Arthur's ribs, running his tongue along the ridge.

Arthur snuffled in his sleep and inched closer. Merlin chuckled and bit him gently, making Arthur squirm.

Merlin nosed his way downwards laying kisses down the side of Arthur's flat stomach before rubbing his nose over the thatch of hair in Arthur's groin. 

Arthur made a noise, but when Merlin looked up, he was still asleep, frowning slightly.

Smiling, Merlin bit him on the thigh, using his hand to coax Arthur's sleepy cock into it's full erect state.

Arthur was restless under his hands and mouth, but Merlin soothed him with gentle touches to his thigh. 

"Love," he traced into the soft skin of Arthur's inner thigh with his tongue. "Heart," and "Mine."

Arthur moaned a little when Merlin sucked the tip of his now hard cock into his mouth, running his tongue over the slit.

He was starting to wake up, Merlin realized when he looked up. Arthur's eyelids were fluttering and his thighs were tense.

Merlin sucked harder and sank down, making Arthur groan, and, finally, sleepily blink his eyes awake.

"God," Arthur mumbled sleepily. "You tart."

Merlin only gazed at him coyly from under his eyelashes, bobbing his head to make Arthur moan and curl his fingers into Merlin's hair, his hips making little thrusting motions.

Pressing down on Arthur's hips with one hand, Merlin reached back between Arthur's thighs to rub at his hole, soft and pressing, and Arthur made a strangled noise. His thighs tightened around Merlin as his orgasm swept through his body, cock pulsing come over Merlin's tongue. He swallowed, tongue soothing over the bottom of Arthur's cock.

"Hate you," Arthur gasped, still shuddering, and Merlin popped off with a grin.

"You love it," he said, and Arthur sat up to pull him into a messy kiss.

"Not when I miss half of it by sleeping," Arthur protested when they pulled apart panting. "Does watching me sleep really get that boring?"

"Quite the opposite," Merlin laughed. "Why do you think I always jump you?"

"Because you're a cockslut?" Arthur teased.

"Only for you," Merlin promised, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm, yes. Only for me," Arthur said, pulling him close for a kiss. 

* * *

**64.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** A bit of intoxication.

Arthur tried to repress the constant thrumming in his chest. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s fun, but he couldn’t help but feel off balance. There he was, the object of all his affections, laughing and smiling with everyone. It was Merlin’s party, after all.

They might be a bit old for slumber parties—Arthur chastised himself, it was _not_ a slumber party, it was a let’s-take-my-uncle’s-house-borrowed-and-sleep-there-for-birthday’s-sake party. Or something like that, he was a bit lost in Merlin’s mouth to register his exact words. The thing was, is, that they’re going to sleep _together_ for one night. One night in which they’ll have plenty of booze and freedom. While Arthur supposed he should feel lucky about it, all it did was make his guts churn in anxiety. 

Merlin was a light drinker, they all knew that. Arthur was sure Gwaine would want to take advantage of that, and for that he hated him just a bit more—he didn’t miss the way Merlin always seemed to _shine_ whenever he looked at Gwaine, which always made Arthur mad with hurt and jealousy. 

His anxiety hadn’t worn down by the time they were there, drinks in hand and several bottles on the floor. Arthur was doomed—he couldn’t stop ogling at Merlin’s lower lip, at Merlin’s collarbones, at Merlin’s hands, at Merlin’s _everything_. He was sure he was being obvious, but his head was spinning a lot and he only wanted to taste the liquor on Merlin’s lips, really. 

Lance got in the way before he could, though. He didn’t kiss Merlin, just stood up wobbly and demanded to watch the Star Wars Saga with them all, because he was commissioned to bring them and he wasn’t about to let them all forget about it. They all groaned something that seemed to be affirmative in Lance’s ears and he went to put on the DVD. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and dragged him into the single sofa, sitting him on his lap. Merlin was so far gone he just giggled and complied, nuzzling his neck as he slotted his body with Arthur’s. 

There was a quick debate about watching them in filming order or sequence order. Arthur paid no mind, he was too awestruck to understand any words as his hands navigated through Merlin’s torso. He sighed happily, sinking deeper into Arthur’s arms and nipping at his earlobe. Arthur shuddered. 

Arthur dared look at his friends—they were all sprawled over each other on the couch, Gwaine napping already while Percy, Elyan and Lance got into a heated argument involving C-3PO and something about making Yoda’s philosophy into an actual religion. Leon looked about to join Gwaine in the furthest end of the couch, and Mordred, Merlin’s cousin, was drinking orange juice at the kitchen counter. No one was looking at them.

Slowly, carefully, he moved his hands a little lower, toying with the elastic on Merlin’s pants while his friend gasped softly. His eyes were shining as he did the same, only he got all the way in, palming his already semi hard cock and giving it lazy strokes. 

“We should’ve borrowed a blanket,” he murmured against his neck, kissing it right afterwards. Arthur groaned and pushed his hand all the way inside Merlin’s pants, searching for Merlin’s dick and finding it hard already. He smiled smugly and Merlin punched him lightly on the arm, closing his other hand around his cock and tugging more. 

Arthur wanted to look at his friends. He really wanted to. He was just lost in the way Merlin parted his lips when he tugged hard enough, the way his body shook a little and how his free hand looked for his, entwining their fingers. It wasn’t a vicious, desperate thing. They were going slow, lazy even, Arthur running his thumb over the head of Merlin’s dick and pressing gently at the tip, Merlin lapping at every bit of skin on his neck while he drummed his fingers playfully over Arthur’s balls. It was nice. 

He realized he was falling asleep when Merlin’s laughter reached his ears. “How can you fall asleep now?” he asked playfully, taking a glance at his friends and finding them all snoring already. “You can’t be like them,” he stated, crossing a leg across his lap and pushing himself into a sitting position. 

“Kiss me,” he demanded, and God, he looked so _good_ , all disheveled hair, pouty lips and rosy cheeks. Arthur didn’t hesitate, diving in for the kiss he’d been wishing for a long time. It was nice, lazy as everything else, their tongues lapping unnecessarily at the other’s mouth. Merlin groaned, rocking his hips against Arthur’s a bit faster than the rhythm they’ve been going at, locking his arms behind his head, pressing their bodies more and more until the friction and the heat and _Merlin_ was too much that Arthur exploded, stars blooming his line of vision.

Merlin followed suit, collapsing in his arms. Arthur really wanted a blanket now—he didn’t care about the mess in his pants, or if they woke someone up. He just wanted to stay like this, cradling Merlin in his arms until they fell asleep, lightsabers echoing in the background.

* * *

**65.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin/Gwaine  
 **Warnings:** Possible dubcon

 

Arthur woke up in pain. Not the bad, oh-god-that-was-a-bad-idea kind of pain, more the good oh-hell-yes-I-didn’t-half-get-laid-last-night kind of pain. His thighs were sore and felt close to cramping, his jaw ached from being held open, patches of his throat were tender from teeth and he could feel the sharp lines of heat down his back that meant that Merlin drew blood again.

He tried to stretch without falling off the bed or disturbing the body next to him and grinned as, glancing across the bed, he remembered why last night had been particularly… vigorous. He reached across and touched Gwaine’s arm where it was slung carelessly across Merlin’s back. Neither man moved, but Arthur’s morning wood started to show interest. He loved when Merlin slept on his front – it gave him such a good view to wake up to.

Arthur started to trail his hand up and down Merlin’s back, revelling in the feel of Merlin’s velvet-soft skin. He allowed his fingers to wander slightly further with each pass, encompassing relaxed shoulder muscle and the rise of buttock that Arthur could barely tear his eyes away from.

Arthur’s hand started – seemingly, he would later claim, of its own accord – to make itself at home on Merlin’s arse: smoothing, kneading, squeezing the flesh, marvelling at how one buttock fit perfectly in his hand. He stroked a single finger down Merlin’s crack and shuddered as he found that he was still open, wet and – oh dear god – _loose_ from the night before.

Without even thinking Arthur slipped a finger inside and had to close his eyes at the ease with which it slid in – seeming to barely touch the sides. He pressed a second finger in alongside the first, starting to thrust them slowly and gently in and out. He started as he felt something touch his hand, but let out a shaky breath – trying not to let it become a moan – as he looked up and saw that Gwaine had woken up and seemed to be joining in the fun.

Arthur stilled his hand to allow Gwaine to push his finger slowly, gently inside Merlin’s arse along with Arthur’s own. Arthur had woken Merlin like this a couple of times before, but never with someone else. He gently manoeuvred Merlin’s legs slightly wider apart with his free hand, then leant up on his elbow to kiss Gwaine softly on the lips. Gwaine started to add another finger and Arthur groaned – between them they now had four fingers inside Merlin, stretching and thrusting.

Arthur was unable to touch himself without coming down off his elbow and losing both his fantastic view and his vantage point from which to explore Gwaine’s mouth and Merlin’s back with his lips, tongue and teeth, so he settled for thrusting against the bedsheets, angling for as much friction as he could. Gwaine grinned as he saw Arthur’s increasingly desperate movements and started to do the same, biting Arthur’s bottom lip every time their faces were close enough together to distract from the extra finger he was adding to the hot, tight tangle of digits inside Merlin’s hole.

It was all too much for Arthur – he managed a few more thrusts against the mattress before he came, not like an explosion but like a waterfall of pleasure, moaning softly as his body seemed like it would melt into the bed. Gwaine suffered a similar fate – pulling his fingers out of Merlin, he gave his cock a couple of tugs before following Arthur over the edge.

The men smiled sheepishly at each other, breaths still heavy, and Arthur was trying to decide whether he wanted to lick Gwaine’s come off Merlin’s back or scoop it up and press it inside him when a voice came from further up the bed.

“Well, you’re not going to stop just as it's getting interesting, are you?”

* * *

**66.**  
 **Pairings:** Arthur/others  
 **Warnings:** none

The room is bathed in gold when Arthur walks in, sheer yellow cloth hanging in intervals to hint at the people in the room. He walks in, his red cape trailing behind him, body shivering in anticipation. The floor is lined with deep red cushions except for the bed in the middle of the room covered in golden sheets. 

Arthur's steps echo off the stone walls as he makes his way past the two women kissing, their hands slipping underneath skirts. He can hear their moans mixing into the air, the scent of sex strong in his nose. Others just sit on their cushions, eyes cast down as Arthur walks past them. They are all beautiful, naked and waiting for him to chose them.

He loves the way the girls kneel at his feet, how the boys are half hard. There is one boy, a little thing with long brown hair and pale skin that whimpers when Arthur walks by. He smirks, lets his cape trail along the boy's skin until the boy is panting, his knees digging into the soft red cushion underneath him.

Arthur is their king and they come to him as he stands in the middle of the room, the bed behind him. His cape is heavy on his shoulder and he sits on the edge of the bed. The boys and girls curl by his feet, girls and boys begging for his attention. There is a girl with dark hair behind him, her fingers moving to undo the straps that keep his cape on his shoulders. Her hair smells of leaves and the earth, her mouth is warm against Arthur's ear.

"I am your king," he tells the room at large. "Please me."

They move so slow at first, their eyes downcast as though it hurts to look at Arthur. He watches the closest one, a boy with dark hair and plump lips. The boy is quick with his hands, long fingers practiced as he undoes the ties of Arthur's breeches. 

The girl with the dark hair presses up close behind Arthur, but he can't feel her warmth through the chainmail. She kisses up his neck, her fingers moving across his chest searching for a way to get him free, get him naked. Other hands are already there, someone already pushing Arthur to lie back on the bed.

He sinks into golden sheets, his skin sliding against the silken sheets, the air heavy with the pants of want. There's someone rubbing their face against the inside of Arthur's thighs, mouths on him, too much movement because the bed creaks. But Arthur doesn't say anything though he could, could snap at them for the noise, for breaking the thick sounds of sex.

The boy with the dark hair--and blue eyes now that Arthur can see him properly--leans over Arthur, his hands on Arthur's chest.

"May I," he whispers, voice hoarse. "Please, my lord."

Arthur stares, entranced by the pale skin, by the hands and mouths on him. "Please, what?" he asks.

The boy whimpers, a sound almost too low for Arthur to hear. "Will you fuck me?"

"No," Arthur says, his voice harsh enough that the others stop moving.

For a moment, the silence in the room is louder than the sound of skin against silk. Arthur almost swears he can hear their frightened heart beats. He tangles fingers in the curls of the dark skinned girl by his left side. She leans into his touch, her body relaxing against him. One by one, the others rub against him, skin against his aching cock, on his thighs.

"You can fuck yourself," Arthur tells the boy.

And he does. They all do. The boy sinks down on Arthur's cock even as hands stroke down Arthur's sides. They are there to please him, to bring him pleasure, to rock the bed until all Arthur hears is the steady beat of the headboard against the wall. The young boy above him cries out and Arthur takes hold of his hips, fucks up into that warm heat until they're both panting, both lost in hands and mouths, drowning in heat and the sounds of slipping sheets. 

He's beautiful, but then, they all are. Arthur's pets, his beautiful boys and girls. He loves them all, wants them all painted with his come and lying at his feet. He wants to wake up in the morning in his giant bed with all of them draped against him because they are his.

* * *

**67.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

 

Sometimes nightmares woke Merlin up in the middle of a night, and he desperately needed someone to be there for him. The dreams always had similar themes, and they were full of impossible things. 

Magical things.

Dragons and sorcerers, adventures and knights. All of them flashed through Merlin’s dreams as if they were real, as if he wasn’t dreaming about them but _remembering_ some other life that was long gone. The life he was dreaming wasn’t only full of magic and wonders though, but also of Merlin’s loved ones dying, and powers that were too great for him to fully control. It was a powerful life in a magical world, but a lonely one too. In the dreams, Merlin had the weight of a great destiny pushing him downwards and no one he could confide in.

It scared him. It shook him to his core. When he managed to pull himself awake he was sweating and shaky and not sure which world was the real one and which was just a creation of his imagination.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered half-awake. “What is it?”

And then Merlin couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He sobbed into his pillow and tried to turn, so his boyfriend couldn’t see him cry, but Arthur was having none of that. He pulled Merlin against his chest and murmured softly,

“Just a bad dream. Nothing else. Just a dream. You’re safe now.”

Still more asleep than awake, Arthur whispered soothing things and endearments into Merlin’s hair, and Merlin let his palms rest on Arthur’s chest. Arthur didn’t ask questions; he didn’t know how to talk about feelings and as a general rule preferred other methods of communication. Merlin pushed his nose against Arthur’s neck and gently kissed the pulse point. 

It was as well a thank you as a way to prove to himself that Arthur was there, well and alive, and none of the dreams were true.

Arthur was warm from sleep and still had his eyes closed, but he pulled Merlin into a kiss that grounded Merlin back to the present better than anything else had so far. Arthur’s lips were moist and pliant against his, and now Merlin knew exactly what he needed to be able to fall asleep again.

He moved his hands to push down Arthur’s boxers, and Arthur’s grip on his hips tightened a little. Merlin pushed his own pyjamas aside as well and wrapped his leg around Arthur’s hips.

It was a slow burn of arousal and emotions. The slow, lazy rhythm of hips, sounds of skin and hands and mouths touching the other body and pulling it closer, and the feelings of excitement and affection brought Merlin back to reality as the traces of his dream disappeared. Even placed against all the dragons, magic and mysteries of the world, Merlin would always choose the reality of this moment, the honesty of this world.

Arthur came first but didn’t let go of Merlin even after he had also reached his release. They lay there side by side, trying to catch their breaths, and just holding each other in their arms. It was a bad idea not to clean up before falling asleep, but in the aftermath of his orgasm he really didn’t care. He leaned his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone and hoped that this time his dreams would be more peaceful.

* * *

**68.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Past canon character death

No sooner had Arthur buried his nose in his soft pillows, then the covers were lifted, the mattress shifted, and a warm body moved into the space against to him. “Mmmmfff?” he queried, sleepily.

Merlin nuzzled against his ear. “So… how sleepy are you?” The soft growl of his voice was pure wickedness, his breath awakening a tingling along the skin of Arthur’s neck. “Too sleepy?”

Arthur stretched slowly, and yawned. “Never too sleepy for you.” He rolled to his side, lifting an arm so that Merlin could scoot in closer. His lips parted in a half-smile as Merlin kissed along them, mingling their breath. “I do not understand how I never saw this side of you before, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed softly and traced his hand down Arthur’s side, lingering at his hip. “Oh, I’m the same unfortunate manservant you always knew and loved, Arthur. I may have been restrained by the divide in our stations, but trust that every urge, every desire I express to you now, be assured I felt it even then.” He pulled Arthur against his hardness, playing with the sensations of their aroused bodies softly dragging against each other. “It’s a new age, Arthur. I’ve had millennium to think of all that I would say to you, all that I would offer to you, on the day you returned.”

Using his hands and his fingers, his mouth and his body, Merlin coaxed Arthur’s body to awaken and respond to him one more time, after a day in which they barely left the bedroom of Merlin’s Shoreditch flat. The bright lights of London stretched out beyond the glass of the window that covered an entire wall of Merlin’s room, casting a sheen of bright colour across Merlin’s ivory skin. Arthur opened to him, drinking in the touch he’d never allowed himself in his former life. When Merlin breached him, his body sore and aching from the connections they’d made in the hours since his awakening, Arthur arched beneath him, wrapping his legs tightly as if he could draw Merlin into him forever. 

Their completion took longer this time, their movements tender, less manic. Their initial urgency had spent, and now was the time for wonder, amazement that after centuries of Arthur’s endless sleep, they finally had this time together. Merlin rolled into him deeply, Arthur’s orgasm building slowly this time, an intense ball of pleasure growing and expanding deep in his groin. As if to make up for the slow pace, when minutes, hours later his pleasure finally peaked and crashed over him, it was with a prolonged, lingering intensity that spread through his body in waves, out to his extremities, even his scalp, his palms, the bottoms of his feet.  
Afterwards, he burrowed exhausted beneath his pillows as Merlin washed him, cleaning the sweat and residue of their lovemaking. Such tenderness and caring… such loyalty… Arthur’s thoughts drifted in relaxed contentment, lashes fluttering closed.

He was pulled from his drowse by fingers entwining with his, teasing teeth and tongue nibbling along the sensitive crease of his palm. His eyes blinked open, trying to focus, and Merlin’s visage swam into view, with an eyebrow raised, a painfully attractive smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. “So… sleepy? 

Arthur emitted a pained whimper. “Merlin. Love. I’m so happy to be here, I really am. Returned from endless slumber, and all that. But – even a prince has limits. You are bloody insatiable.”

Merlin looked stricken, for a second, then schooled his features to cheerful encouragement. “I could blow you? Again? If you just want to lie there. I wouldn't be offended. Just… please? I really, really need to touch you.”

Light dawned for Arthur. “Oh Merlin,” he cupped his lover’s face in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. “Is it... are you… afraid? Afraid to let me sleep?”

Merlin closed his eyes, for a moment. Nodded. “It’s – how can I know? If you sleep again – how can I know you’ll ever awaken? What if you return to your rest, what if I’m... if I’m alone again, for another thousand years?”

Arthur thought of his eternity, lying in state, lying in stone on the altar of Avalon. “Then you kiss me, Merlin. You kiss me and you bring me back. Every night of rest, you will wake me with your kiss. Promise me?”

Merlin sobbed back tears, nodded. Arthur pulled him into his arms, and held him as they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**69.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Morgana, implied Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Non-con due to inability to consent while unconscious. Half-sibling incest. General moral turpitude.

Arthur tiptoed into Morgana’s room, expecting any second for her to shriek and throw something at him. He hoped she wouldn’t. She had nightmares too. He just didn’t want to be alone.

He paused at the edge of her bed, swallowing. He touched her shoulder, whispered, “ _Morgana._ ”

She didn’t rouse. Arthur didn’t want to go back to his dark chambers. The thought made panic climb the back of his throat and his eyes go hot. He shook her harder. Still she slept.

Arthur crawled into her bed and curled up as close to the far edge as he could. He woke alone, but his father never scolded him for a weakling, so he knew she never told.

###

Gaius gave her potions to help her sleep. The few times Arthur returned to her bed she never once stirred, though sometimes they did wake wrapped around each other.

One evening after she’d been particularly horrid to him, he snuck into her room and put her hand in a bowl of warm water. She beat him soundly with a quarterstaff the following day.

###

When he was fifteen he thought it would be funny to smear his come through her hair, let her wake to a sticky wad right near her face. He considered wanking in advance so he could wipe off and flee, but decided he didn’t want to risk _this_ being the one time she stirred when he touched her.

His balls tightened so fast, half of his come spilled over her pillow before he leaned forward and landed a good gob where he wanted it.

Heart racing, he’d hardly stuffed himself back in his breeches before he was running from her room.

In retaliation, she slipped one of her stays onto the seat of his chair at a feast, embarrassing him in front of the whole hall when he leapt up, yelping.

###

The next time he snuck into her room, he meant to paint thick eyebrows and a mustache on her face. But he found her in a wanton sprawl, one breast half exposed where her nightgown pulled down.

He came in his palm and, after a moment’s consideration, cleaned himself on the hem of his shirt.

###

He risked slipping a hand into her bodice the next time, gently squeezing and trying to choke back his gasps as he humped his fist, cockhead slippery and hot poking through the circle of his fingers.

###

She never woke. Even when he practised kissing her soft mouth. Even when he rutted against her arse.

Even when he squeezed his eyes shut tight, hunching helplessly and spilling the instant he’d fit himself in her cunt.

In a panic, he cleaned her up with his mouth, uncertain how else to hide the proof of his depravity. She groaned, shifting, and he almost pissed himself with fear.

He stopped visiting her for a full season, until the day a few of the older knights spoke of pleasing ladies with their tongues. Heat prickled through him in a sudden, tingling rush.

###

Over time, he found he preferred her on her belly, hips lifted so he could fuck down into the hot, tight grasp of her body. But carefully, always carefully — ever since the evening he’d overheard her complain to Gwen that she sometimes woke sore and didn’t know why.

He discovered that licking her before mounting made her soft and slick, which helped.

Once, after planting his first, eager batch of seed, he watched it slide out of her puffy pink lips and glaze her thighs. And he began to wonder if he could impregnate her this way. Gods — she’d be so confused, fattening with his child. He had to stick her again with his cock at the thought; feverish with shame, on fire with lust.

###

Merlin arrived in Camelot and Arthur marked the way his eyes followed Morgana. It made him jealous and protective at first, territorial.

Then Merlin saved Arthur’s life and Arthur’s opinion shifted. Merlin was a good sort. He deserved a reward.

The idiot hissed fearful protests the whole way to Morgana’s rooms, twitching at every noise. He choked, shocked, when he realised what Arthur meant to do. Then he quieted.

In the dark, the bed squeaked and Arthur grunted and Morgana’s cunt made sucking, mouthing noises around his dick. When he slumped to the side, satisfied, Merlin was waiting behind him — his hands already busy at the ties of his breeches.

Arthur grinned, settling back to watch.

* * *

**70.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** dubcon (the person being woken with sex gives consent while awake)

Arthur's days begin and end with Merlin now, high in his tiny garret, perched above the rooftops of Paris. Steep-pitched ceilings over a wrought-iron bed, a single table and an oil lamp tucked in close, and beyond the window, the city spread wide below in all her glory.

It’s glorious to Arthur, at any rate. He’s partial to things like good food, good wine, and good conversation, and Paris in 1889 offers him all of these. Merlin disagrees; Merlin likes to rant about the ills of materialism and the degradation of civilisation, yet - as Arthur likes to point out - he continues to live in the midst of it.

But Merlin is an oddity in so many ways that only fate could have fashioned him into such an inexplicably pleasing whole. His manners are awkward but charming; he obviously knows the rules of polite society, but chooses to follow or neglect them at will. His suits - he appears to have only two - are clearly relics from an earlier decade, likely purchased the moment Merlin’s gangly limbs had stopped growing, but Arthur would be secretly sorry to see him wear any other. 

And his eyes.... Merlin’s eyes are golden like a night-bird's, and Arthur wonders if the world looks different through them: if energy streaks in bright currents through the air, if shadows gather in true, heart-stopping ways, if the stillness of sleep is indistinguishable from death.

"May I wake you whenever I wish?" Merlin had asked the question on their first night together, twined round Arthur in the moonlight, the coverlet of his narrow bed pushed down to their feet.

"Some of us have actual commitments during the daylight hours," Arthur had said, eyebrows raised, but Merlin's golden eyes had been so troubled that Arthur had been struck with regret. Merlin had jerked his chin away, preventing Arthur from studying his expression further, but his hands had clenched against Arthur’s back in a manner that spoke of instinctive defence against loss. He’d wondered, then, what Merlin had already lost in his life; something so cutting and deep that it bled inside him still, even if the wound had long healed. "Yes," Arthur had said, softly. "Yes."

Now Arthur's nights belong to Merlin. It rests in Merlin's hands whether Arthur wakes or sleeps, and in that he has found a strange, unexpected peace.

Sometimes he wakes from Merlin's lips on his neck alone. He believes Merlin begins there each time, that Merlin spends long moments nestled beneath Arthur's jaw, feeling the pulse of Arthur's blood against his cheek, strong and true. But Arthur doesn't know. More often he wakes with Merlin's head on his stomach, Merlin's lips at the tip of his shaft. Sometimes licking, sometimes sucking, sometimes simply pressed in a lingering kiss.

Merlin's long, nimble fingers are heaven on Arthur's cock. When he mouths the head, he pumps his hand in a measured pace, and even if, startled into wakefulness, Arthur twitches and bucks, Merlin refuses to alter it. He pulls, and the tide builds slowly, so slowly, as if the world could turn and the century could end and Merlin would still be here, devoted to this, to Arthur.

Merlin's lips are a soft, inviting sin, one he commits in his own time, his own way. He hums happily when Arthur's shaft pulses as it swells, and Arthur often swats at Merlin's head in response, because by then Arthur is _ready_ , he wants to be taken deep. Of course Merlin ignores him whenever he chooses, but when he does part his lips enough to let Arthur all the way in, the heat of him is unimaginably perfect, the pace still unyielding.

It's baffling. Merlin is hardly the height of discipline in any other matter, yet he keeps to this night after night while his own cock is hard and insistent against Arthur's hip or thigh, never rutting down, never taking a hand to himself. He leaves that to Arthur, and it's a duty Arthur takes seriously indeed.

On that very first night Merlin had wakened Arthur by calling his name, over and over, and Arthur had heard him long before he could respond. Merlin was hopeful, he was frantic, he was tearful, he was resigned, and to Arthur he was an echo through deep water, near yet far, in reach only if Arthur could break the surface.

"Not that way, please," Arthur had said, sitting upright in bed, palm pressed to his chest, gasping. "Wake me when you will, but not with your voice. It took too long."

"Yes," Merlin had said, slotting his hand over Arthur's, gripping tight, wet tracks on his cheeks. "Yes, it certainly did."

* * *

**71.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** breathplay, some powerplay i guess

It happened every time Arthur bottomed, and that was more often than not, because Merlin was just as cheeky in bed as he was out of it.

It would start as a gentle rocking, no more distinguishable than if Merlin were simply thrusting too hard and causing the bedframe to scrape back and forth across the stone floor. And then, slowly but surely, Merlin would go faster, slam deeper into Arthur so that Arthur moaned with pleasure and the bed itself would start hovering in the air.

“Merlin, it’s-it’s happening aga—oh fuck, right there, _yes_.”

Merlin grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s hair and yanked the king’s head back. He used his grip as leverage to keep fucking hard into Arthur’s perfect arse.

“Can’t…stop,” Merlin breathed hoarsely. The pace he was setting was brutal, the sound of their skin loud between their chorus of sighs and moans.

“One of these days you’ll…break it.”

Merlin snapped his hips forward so hard Arthur’s elbows bent and his arms gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto his stomach and Merlin released his hair to hold himself up and keep pounding into him.

“I don’t think it’s the bed you should be worried about breaking…sire,” Merlin chuckled in Arthur’s ear. He slid his arm under Arthur’s neck and positioned it in the crook of his elbow. He tightened the pressure until Arthur’s throat was moderately restricted in a chokehold.

Arthur swallowed with difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbing against where Merlin’s forearm pressed against it, and a huff of air was expelled when Merlin squeezed just the tiniest bit. Arthur’s cock twitched where it was caught between his stomach and the bed.

“Ah, Arthur, you’re so—so tight.”

Arthur felt it. He felt how the walls of his stretched hole hugged Merlin’s cock like a second skin. He felt how Merlin impaled him deep like a spear. He felt how Merlin’s long cock finally got the angle just right and—

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped, “fuck, Merlin, _Merlin_ —“

“Yes, yes, Arthur.” Merlin dug his teeth into Arthur’s shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly. He slowed his hips but kept the force consistent until he could speak properly again. “Want to…want to fuck you loose…keep you open with my fingers while you sleep and fuck you again…make you wake up with my seed dripping down your thighs.”

“Oh gods,” Arthur moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and he could already imagine it, raised his arse higher to take what Merlin had to give.

Merlin hummed in approval and tightened his hold around Arthur’s neck, stifling his breathing again. “Needy little king, aren’t you? Whatever would the citizens of Camelot think if they saw you now?” Merlin lifted his head so that his voice was right in Arthur’s ear, breath hot as it ghosted down his neck. “Open up, darling, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Arthur slowly blinked his eyes open and had trouble bringing things into focus at first. His vision was hazy with lust and he was seeing double. After a few seconds he realised what he was looking at was not his imagination.

“M-Merlin, the bed…” It had never levitated this high before and it was never an easy descent. “You have to—” But Merlin squeezed harder over Arthur’s throat and cut him off. Arthur’s face was deep red from the lack of oxygen, matching his swollen cock underneath him.

“Stop worrying about the stupid bed, Arthur,” Merlin said, and Arthur had honestly forgotten he’d even said anything about the bed he was so lost in the sensation of Merlin’s cock penetrating him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“You—You said you couldn’t control—“

“No, Arthur. Surely you know I’m powerful enough by now.” He nipped Arthur’s earlobe teasingly. “It’s like fucking on a cloud, yeah? When summer comes I’ll take you out and we’ll do it for real. I’ll fuck you right above everyone’s oblivious little heads, make the mighty King Arthur moan for my cock on a bed of nothing but air. I’ll summon a thunderstorm to drown out your cries and then every time it rains, you’ll think of me fucking you. You won’t be able to hear thunder without getting hard ever again.”

Arthur’s body tensed as he climaxed and Merlin’s hand was suddenly over Arthur’s mouth muffling his screams.

* * *

**72.**  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Leon  
 **Warnings:** Sexsomnia-related dubcon, consensual non-monogamy—references to why it's consensual were cut for length, alas, so you could also read this as infidelity

When Arthur leaves Camelot on an urgent, secretive mission, bringing only Merlin with him, Gwen fills with panic. The last time he did this, he’d brought Uther’s ghost down on them all, and it was only by luck and Merlin’s concerned heart that Gwen had made it out alive. She still can’t bear to be alone. The silence of her empty chambers at night suffocates her, makes her feel vulnerable and unwell, and she can’t quite bring herself to snuff out the candles.

She finds herself outside the door to Leon’s chambers, wondering to herself why she hasn’t gone to Elyan, why her feet know the path to Leon’s door at all. It takes a long moment for Leon to answer her knock, but when the door swings open, his groggy confusion splits into a smile.

“My lady,” Leon says, opening the door wider. “How can I be of service?”

Leon doesn’t prod, just lets Gwen inside and tidies the bed for her.

“Please, it’s your bed,” Gwen says. “I’ve slept on many floors in my life.”

“And I have not slept on enough,” Leon responds, already lying down on the floor. “My bed is the least I can offer my queen.”

It makes Gwen’s insides feel hot. She slips into Leon’s bed, resting her head gingerly on his pillow, and when his scent hits her, she realises that what she feels is desire. The promise in Leon’s words is imagined, but Gwen’s breathing goes fast and shallow anyway. She fists her fingers in his duvet, suddenly wired. It’s terrifying, this feeling, the desperate thrill.

Leon breathes slowly, evenly, and Gwen tries to relax, hopes Leon’s sleep will be contagious. She almost gets there, is on the verge of unconsciousness when the bed dips behind her. It feels like her heart stops, like the room is filled with cold water that’s drowning her and her only salvation is the hot press of Leon against her back, his broad hand curling around her hip, fingers roving covetously over the silk of her nightgown.

“Leon?” she whispers, gasps, but he doesn’t respond. She turns her head and his eyes are closed. He’s so lovely like this, face sleep-soft and untrained.

“Are you all right?” she asks, but he makes no sign of having heard her, and Gwen realises he’s still asleep. She should wake him, should slide out of the bed and shake his shoulder, or perhaps just leave, go find Elyan after all. But Leon’s hands are bunching in her skirt, lifting it, and she shifts to give him access, hot with warring shame and desire. His hand slides over her thigh, and even just that touch sets her quivering, her chest inflamed with want for him.

Gwen grinds back against him, savouring the evidence of his arousal. Her movements slip Leon’s shift up until his bare cock is rubbing hard against her arse. It’s easy to slide up his body and angle herself back, to catch his prick against where she’s wet and aching, to slide down and feel herself filled. His arms wrap around her as she fucks back onto him, her skin on fire where he touches her.

When Leon goes still, Gwen realises he must have awoken. He tries to pull away, and instead of letting him, instead of pretending that she, too, had been sleeping, she grabs his hand and shoves it down against her, rubs his thumb over her clit and slides his fingers against where he’s inside her. He groans and rubs her cunt, makes a vee around her opening, and she covers his hand with hers, both of them feeling his cock as he fucks into her, conscious and calculated.

It’s better like this, with Leon awake and choosing this, choosing to fuck his queen, both their hands sloppy and touching her, his sliding across her full lips, spreading her wetness and making her feel like a desperate, sopping mess for him. He fucks her steadily and lets her rub her clit like he knows she’s better at it. It makes her want to fuck him again, and she says so.

His arm is strong around her chest, holding her tight, and she comes, Leon’s lips on her shoulder. He doesn’t stop until she does, until she pulls off and tells him to touch himself, to look at her while he does it.

Even as he streaks his chest with come, Leon never stops looking at Gwen’s eyes.

* * *

**73.**  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Percival  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur usually avoided his neighbor's door without his son in tow, but tonight he had no choice. When Percival opened up wearing only a pair of low-slung sweats that left little to the imagination--especially Arthur's overactive one--he had to shove his hands into his armpits to keep from throwing the object of his fantasies to the floor and riding him the way he was meant to be.

"Arthur." Percival glanced around, clearly looking for the usual reason Arthur stopped by. "Where's Cal?"

"In bed. But not asleep which is why I'm here."

Percival cocked his head and waited for clarification. As one of the few people three-year-old Callum wasn't afraid of, he watched Arthur's son any time necessary, which, with the demands Uther made on Arthur's social life, was probably too often.

"I got that book you were reading to him. The one that put him right out."

"And?"

"It's not working."

"But it always works."

"Cal says it's not the same."

"You got the right one?"

"Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book, right?"

"That's it."

"It played all the way through--"

"Wait. Played? Didn't you read it to him?"

Arthur's face went hot. "No, I bought the app."

Percival grinned, though he had the grace to hide it quickly. "Hang on."

Arthur loitered in the hall as Percival disappeared into his flat, emerging a few seconds later with the well-worn copy he always brought with him when he babysat. Without waiting, he brushed past and went straight to Arthur's door, giving Arthur the perfect view of his well-muscled back. 

Arthur's throat went dry. The only part better than the broad shoulders were the tiny dimples where his ass began. He was so screwed.

He followed Percival to Cal's room, but stayed in the doorway as the pair greeted each other. The two had a rapport unmatched by anyone else, which made it even harder for Arthur to ignore his attraction to his gorgeous neighbor. Leaning against the jamb, he listened as Percival began reading, his voice as hypnotic as the rhythm of the words.

When Percival softly closed the book, Arthur's eyelids were heavy. Cal was fast asleep, too.

"He doesn't want an app," Percival whispered. "He wants--"

Arthur's reaction time had been dulled by his response to Percival's reading. He failed to lift his gaze in time when Percival turned around.

The air went heavy between them. Every inch of Arthur's skin felt like it was on fire, embarrassment warring with desire. When Percival took a step closer, Arthur jerked back, stumbling into the corridor and out of Percival's sight.

"Thanks for the help," he said, nearly running for the front door. "Next time--"

A strong hand clamped around his shoulder, shoving him gently into the wall. Percival crowded in, the thickening line of his erection pushing against Arthur's back.

"All you ever have to do is ask." Percival's warm breath tickled across Arthur's ear. "I'd do anything for you, Arthur."

A shudder went through him. The problem with asking was he wanted everything. That meant all he could say was, "Please."

Percival groaned. His arms slid around Arthur's body, one snaking down to shove its way into his jeans to find his cock, the other looping around Arthur's chin to tilt his head back so Percival could seal their mouths together.

His senses overloaded. Arthur squirmed, trying to gain some control, get more contact, anything really, but Percival held him in place, his kisses unrelenting, the tight curl around Arthur's cock more so. Though his balls were already tight from how aroused he'd been from the second Percival opened his door, each stroke pulled them closer and harder, condensing the world into just their flesh, their breaths, the intoxicating scent of Percival's skin.

Arthur came with a shout, one Percival mercifully muffled with his mouth. After the first shot, Percival slid his hand up to cup the tip of Arthur's cock, catching the come in the palm as he held Arthur tight. 

Arthur almost came a second time when Percival pulled his hand free and licked it clean.

"I hope--"

"Can I--"

They stopped at the same time and chuckled. Percival eased his hold around Arthur to give him room to turn around. "You first."

"I was hoping you'd stick around. What were you going to ask?"

"If I could stay."

Arthur couldn't resist. "It looks like we're on the same page, then."

Percival grinned, and Arthur's heart did a flipflop. "My favorite book."

Arthur's, too.

* * *

**74.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** somnophilia; non-con; daddy issues; pedophilia

 

Merlin likes pretty boys.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them in his bed, sleeping.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed. 

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside because it makes him come so hard.

-

Merlin likes Arthur.

He’s Arthur’s nanny—Arthur’s nanny, Arthur, who’s fifteen years old and especially pretty when he frowns after his daddy’s leaving for the weekend, again. Merlin leaves lollipops on the kitchen counter of his flat, knowing Arthur’ll sneak one between his red puffy lips and suck it empty like he’s going to suck Merlin empty, later, when he won’t know. It makes Merlin’s trousers go tight as he cooks dinner for Arthur, who’s sitting at the dinner table with a cute glower on his handsome face. The pills are pretty like Arthur’s pretty—when he swallows them, unconsciously, like he’s going to swallow Merlin later, unconsciously. They make him drowsy, make him slur his words, make him fall asleep on Merlin’s couch while they’re watching footie. 

Merlin shifts Arthur’s face into his lap and strokes the fair wispy hair, smiles indulgently as Arthur pushes his nose into his crotch, because when Arthur’s sleeping he’s dreaming of daddy; daddy, who’s never there.

“Daddy,” he’s mumbling, his voice so young, so vulnerable still it makes Merlin’s chest ache. So Merlin scoops him up and drags him over to his bed. Lays him down on it and spreads his arms like an angel’s wings; takes off his trousers and underwear and pushes his legs apart to lick at his plump butt, the way his daddy never does. Merlin does, and Arthur loves Merlin’s goodnight kisses: he’s making little snuffling noses when Merlin kisses the soft, innocent skin of his cheeks, slurs “daddy, daddy,” while Merlin’s lapping his tender hole open, the dusk giving way to rose, rose giving way to pink and _hot_ and _tight_ around Merlin’s tongue.

“Don’t go, daddy,” Arthur’s whimpering into Merlin’s pillow, crying the sort of fat, childish tears he won’t cry when he’s awake. Merlin’s chest tightens and he zips open his flies and slicks his dick with spit and goes to still Arthur’s need; he feeds his love into Arthur, slow, slow and lasting with every bit of his dick, because it needs to be enough to make Arthur go the entire week without him until next weekend, when he can have him again his bed.

Arthur’s sweet around him, holding him the way Merlin knows Arthur wishes his daddy would’ve done, and Merlin does instead, pumps Arthur full with himself while Arthur’s whispering “daddy, daddy,” still, and Merlin replies with a kiss, the goodbye kiss daddy’s never given Arthur—pries Arthur’s full, soft lips apart to push his tongue inside and lick at Arthur’s tongue, wet and thick and unmoving inside.

“Daddy’s here,” Merlin’s saying back, “daddy’s here,” stupidly, like he’s stupid for Arthur, stupid for his innocent, untouched skin while he’s moving his hips in eager, wonderful little jerks, spilling himself inside to the sound of Arthur’s sobbing.

* * *

**75.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Orgasm tugged at Arthur’s balls as he bent Merlin nearly in half. He fought it off and drove deeper into Merlin’s arse. Merlin always loved this position. “So much easier,” Arthur panted, “without you flailing around and kicking me in the head.”

Rescuing the sleeping princess in the tower had been all in a day’s work for questing king and trusty warlock. Finding out that her magical sleep was actually a bit of sex play with her lover had been a touch awkward, but they’d all had a good laugh—especially when Merlin popped a huge erection in the middle of her explanation.

Merlin hadn’t been the least bit embarrassed. He’d pulled the Lady Aurora aside and questioned her at length about the spell they’d used. It might have been professional curiosity, but Arthur had not been surprised when Merlin had appeared in Arthur’s chambers with a fresh bottle of oil and a gleam in his eye.

Afterward, Merlin described the experience with a dreamy look: the way the pleasure had suffused his sleeping mind, the way Arthur’s voice had seemed to come from inside him, the way his climax propelled him into a deeper bliss than his conscious mind could experience. 

Arthur loved it as well. He loved Merlin’s energy in bed, but the pliancy of his sleeping body (in Arthur’s arms, around Arthur’s cock) cried out to be fucked hard. A surge of possessive tenderness made him gather Merlin closer so Merlin’s swollen cock bounced between his belly and thighs with every thrust.

“Everything feels so good right now, doesn’t it? Fuck, Merlin.” He couldn’t take any more. He drove in once more, as deep as he could, and added his heat to Merlin’s sleep-warm body.

Merlin’s cock, the only part of him that physically responded during these sessions, was rigid and hot when Arthur took it in his mouth a moment later. A few strong sucks finished the job.

Arthur stretched with satisfaction before he rose and dressed. He smoothed Merlin’s sleep shirt down over his torso; he left Merlin’s bottom half bare under the covers as he tucked them around Merlin’s shoulders. 

“Lazybones,” he said fondly and kissed Merlin’s damp forehead. Merlin insisted on having the rest of day to enjoy the aftershocks that rippled through his dreams, letting him drift in a sea of constant pleasure.

Arthur, on the other hand, was expected in council.

***  
“Are you sure Merlin’s all right?” Guinevere asked as council ended. “This is the fourth time this month that he’s been too ill to attend council.”

“He’s fine,” Arthur replied. “I left him sleeping like a baby.” 

“We should check on him,” said Morgana, as much as thorn in Arthur’s side as ever.

“Yes,” Lancelot agreed, brow creasing in concern. He was echoed by the rest of Arthur’s overly chivalrous knights, who were fond of the king’s paramour and apparently did not trust the king to take care of him.

“You can’t even take care of yourself,” Morgana pointed out. “You need Merlin for that.”

Arthur could hardly argue that point.

***

“See, there he is, snoozing away. Go, before you wake him.”

“We won’t disturb him.” Gwen was already pushing past him. “Oh, poor Merlin. I think he’s running a fever.”

“He does look rather flushed,” Leon agreed as they gathered at Merlin’s bedside. “You should get these covers off him.”

“No!” Arthur said, because odds were high that Merlin was sporting a good, strong erection. “He wanted the covers on. For his recovery.”

They continued fussing over Merlin’s condition. When Gwen brushed the back of her hand over Merlin’s brow, Arthur had to move to the other side of the bed to hide his own sudden arousal. 

All their friends stood over Merlin, touching him, and not a single one of them realized that Merlin was happily bespelled. None of them could guess that Merlin’s flush came from the pleasure he was still enjoying in his sleep; that under the covers he still had Arthur’s seed wet on his naked thighs.

He tried to strangle the moan in his throat, but enough of it got out to draw Gwen’s attention. “Arthur? Oh, you look feverish yourself. Are you coming down with whatever Merlin has?”

“Undoubtedly,” he said. “You’d all better go before you catch it.”

As soon as he barred the door behind them, he was stripping off his clothes. He pulled the covers back and drank in the sight of Merlin’s bare limbs and swollen cock. 

Arthur parted Merlin’s thighs and climbed between them. He bent to kiss Merlin’s slack lips. “See, I do take care of you,” he whispered and pushed inside Merlin again.

* * *

**76.**  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

It takes Arthur an hour to convince them, and he's excruciatingly aware of every second.

Gaius talks about the danger, about the drugs. Morgana crosses her arms and tells him he's being a sentimental idiot. Gwen looks torn, glancing at where Merlin still lies, sleeping.

Arthur grabs the pill from Gaius's hand and swallows it dry, then looks at them each in turn. "I have to save him," he says. "I need your help."

Gwen caves first, and takes a pill for herself. Morgana swears violently but doesn't resist as Gaius starts hooking up the wires.

*

Gaius's dream is his workshop, filled with the drugs and sedatives of his profession, clean and neat as a pin, all bright chrome and slick glass. Morgana gives him a look that makes him glower and snap, "Let's see you do better on short notice."

*

Merlin's should have been next. Not having him here, anticipating Arthur's every need before he's even aware of it, makes this whole business seem wrong. It sends panic clawing down Arthur's throat.

Morgana's dream is dark and full of strangers who wander by and glare at Arthur. For an instant, Arthur thinks they're projections, that they'll attack and force Arthur out of the dream and that'll be more time lost, when every second is precious.

They don't, though. They just glare, and Arthur realizes that they're manifestations of Morgana's disapproval. He sighs at her, then turns to Gwen.

"I'm ready." Her voice is thin, but strong. She tightens her jaw and shows no fear. "Let's go."

*

Gwen's the architect, and it's no surprise that her dream's intricately detailed, populated with gothic arches that soar high overhead, too tall and spindly for real-world physics. She takes her title literally, and it's the sort of place Arthur could lose himself in for a week, just exploring.

Arthur doesn't have time for it, but Gwen knows. She's there the moment he drops into the dream, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him around. "One more," she says. This time, her words tremble. She looks at Arthur like she's never going to see him again.

He can't even reassure her, because he knows she might be right. But she knows that he has to try.

*

Arthur doesn't know what Limbo looked like before Merlin dropped into it, but in time he's been there ( _years,_ a traitorous voice whispers, _decades, how long could he—_ ) he has transformed it. Now it's a miasma of swirling gold, images of dragons and other beasts forming out of the mist.

Arthur finds Merlin at the center of it, where the currents whip around him like a storm. He looks wild, unearthly. When Arthur steps up to him, Merlin stares, but doesn't seem to see him.

"Arthur." It's a sigh. Merlin's voice is distant, like he's somehow fallen even farther than this. "I dreamed you before. I'm dreaming you now."

" _No._ " Not even the storm can keep Arthur back now. He catches Merlin's face in his hands, kisses him desperately. The sound Merlin makes against his mouth is a broken cry. "You're not. I'm here. I don't know how long it's been—"

"Years," Merlin says dreamily. "Years and years and years."

He's lost his mind, Arthur thinks, and he wants to kill Gaius and Gwen and Morgana for refusing as long as they did. He's been down here alone for so long, and he's lost his mind.

Arthur will help him find it again. He found him here, didn't he?

"I like this dream," Merlin sighs against his mouth. "Don't go this time, Arthur. Don't go again."

"I won't," Arthur promises. It seems only natural when Merlin pulls him down and stretches Arthur on his back beneath him. Merlin kisses his neck and works his hands under Arthur's clothes. He wriggles down and takes Arthur's prick into his mouth before he's even fully hard.

The gold swirls around them in patterns that pulse and echo Arthur's stuttering heartbeat. Arthur feels weightless, floating, losing his mind himself as he cups Merlin's head and lets him take whatever he needs. He's waited so long, how could Arthur deny him?

He doesn't know when the kick will come. Seconds for them could be days here, or longer. Perhaps they'll have years here together, in the minutes it takes the others to give their kicks.

It doesn't matter. Arthur can wait. However long it takes, at least this time they'll have each other. And he'll make sure they make it back together.


	4. Group D (with warnings)

**77.**  
 **Pairing:** Morgana/?  
 **Warnings:** Dub-con

[](http://imgur.com/fbI50GU)

* * *

**78.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none, I think? I guess could be seen as non-con if squinted and thought reeeeally hard...  
Dreamcatcher

[](http://imgur.com/IFP6iTt)

* * *

**79.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

**Good Morning, Arthur**

Arthur likes it best in the morning, when he first awakes, when Merlin's magic is just starting to get a little frisky.

[](http://imgur.com/Vh5GFtv)

* * *

**80.**  


 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

 **Summary:** Breakfast in bed. ..........What.

[](http://imgur.com/g2OzxMp)

* * *

**81.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Somnophilia, Dub-con

[](http://imgur.com/bvsEzve)

* * *

**82.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** nudity, awkward situations

[](http://imgur.com/iA21BcM)

* * *

**83.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

[](http://imgur.com/EZxtcj0)

* * *

**84.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

[](http://imgur.com/XDliP5C)

* * *

**85.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** none

[](http://imgur.com/HsCRYt6)

* * *

**86.**  


 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Incubus!Merlin, Mind control, somnophilia-related non-con

[](http://imgur.com/KDyVozK)

* * *

**87.**

Pairing:Morgana/Gwen

Dreams always beat reality.

[](http://imgur.com/vBvOs5Z)


	5. Group A (no warnings)

**1.**

It takes about three dates before Merlin is unable to stop himself from throwing Arthur up against a wall and kissing the hell out of him.

Well, ‘dates’ is what Arthur calls them. He learned modern English from television, television and a spell, and now he rattles off words like he’s writing for a WB drama. After emerging from Avalon, Arthur had woken up in Merlin’s bed with a bit of a learning curve to surmount.

“Merlin,” Arthur says against his mouth, “not that I’m objecting, much to my surprise, but isn’t this a bit—soon?”

Merlin groans. “Arthur. Arthur,” he says as he sucks kisses down Arthur’s gorgeous neck, “I know you’re chivalric and trying to be a gentleman and while I appreciate that, I really, do—“ He lays into Arthur’s mouth like a starving man. “--Eleven hundred _years_.”

Arthur hesitates for about a half a second, then kisses Merlin soundly on the mouth. “Right, then. I know you have a bed. I haven’t been in it since I was soaking wet and unconscious, but—“

Merlin’s dragged him halfway down the hall, deterred only by his want to shed as many clothes as possible—

Arthur snickers when Merlin gets caught up in his trousers in the doorway. “Can’t you just—“ He flicks his wrist. “—magic them away?”

They haven’t talked about that part. Merlin flushes. “I could, but—“

Arthur comes to stand with him. “But what?”

Merlin searches his face. “Would it shock you to know I’ve been waiting for this day since before you were king?”

Arthur blinks. It does shock him. Except for how it doesn’t.

“No matter now,” he decides, nibbling at Merlin’s mouth. “We’ve got time, now, don’t we?”

Merlin’s relief is palpable. His arms come around Arthur, memorising skin and bones, and he tugs them down onto the bed. “We’ve got time,” he says as he lands on his back with Arthur between his thighs, “but I really, really, want you to fuck me tonight. First thing.”

Arthur feels his whole everything heat up. “You’re certain?”

Merlin almost laughs, but this is Arthur, Arthur the overly noble... “Yes. I’ve been certain for a long, long time.”

Arthur breathes in, a bit shakily, then nods. “Alright, but— But you have to show me. I’ve never—with a man, of course, and—“

Merlin silences him with a kiss. “Of course. Of course I will.” And he does; he slicks up their hands, guides Arthur’s fingers one at a time, until he’s full of them both and Arthur’s eyes are wild.

“Merlin—can I—I want—“

“What, Sire?”

But Arthur doesn’t answer, and Merlin is momentarily lost—then Arthur is flipping them over, putting his sure, huge hands on Merlin’s hips and letting Merlin sink down onto his cock. “Oh, fuck—“

And Merlin’s never felt anything like it, neither of them have. It’s aching with the space of time between them even while it’s healing the wounds they never thought would heal. In the end, they come together, which should really not be possible in such circumstance but then again—everything about them is impossible.

The thought makes Arthur grin, and gather Merlin closer. They breathe together for long moments, kissing what skin they can reach with soft, thoughtless kisses, until Merlin finally slides off, tidies them up, and settles them in.

Arthur would be on board with this, but— “Merlin, for God’s sake, how do you sleep in this bed?”

Merlin’s head comes up quickly enough that Arthur begins to suspect something is afoot. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act coy; it won’t work on me anymore.”

Merlin purses his lips. “Fine, I might have an answer but I won’t give it to you until you tell me what you mean.”

Arthur sighs. “Glad to know a millennium hasn’t made you less annoying.”

“Nor you less of a prat.”

“But I _mean_ , of course, that there is something large and awkward underneath this clearly shoddy mattress, and I can’t believe you ever—“

But Merlin is laughing, doubled over and guffawing. Arthur stares at him, flummoxed. “What the devil?”

“Arthur,” Merlin finally says through hiccoughs. “Arthur, I put a pea under the bed. Here.” And he says something unintelligible, and his eyes glow, and suddenly there’s a tiny pea in his hand, and the bed feels much less lumpy.

“Why ever would you do _that_?”

Merlin shakes his head and practically tackles Arthur to the bed. “I’ll explain it later.”

**2.**

Gwen is curled up, sound asleep, between Mithian's legs when Morgana gets home. Mithian has her Kindle in one hand, the other occupied with petting Gwen's curls. Morgana can see the faint sheen of lube glistening on Gwen's thighs and between her ass cheeks, and wished desperately that she had been around earlier, to see Mithian stretch her open, careful and precise, all while making Gwen desperate for relief.

It was meant to be a fun night.

Morgana huffs under her breath, yanking at the buttons on her shirt. Fucking Uther and his fucking emergencies. Not that they are emergencies, not really. Uther just wants her and Arthur at his beck and call all the time.

"Gwen couldn't stay awake," Mithian says, putting away her Kindle as Morgana strips. "I assured her it was okay."

"Sorry I couldn't be here earlier." Morgana sheds her skirt, leaving her clothes on the floor, and climbs on the bed. "You know how Uther gets."

"We understand." Mithian stretches her legs, shifting Gwen slightly, who sleeps on, content and safe between the thighs of her girlfriend. "Gwen knew it would be a long night for you," she continues, and passes Morgana a harness. "She insisted you enjoy yourself, even if she was asleep."

The strap-on harness is Morgana's favorite, held on by black lace, and the dildo that goes with it is thick and solid, one of Gwen's favorites. Morgana's not sure if it's because Gwen likes how it stretches her or if she likes it because it's Morgana's favorite to use. The harness is also the only they have with a built in vibe that sits perfectly, letting Morgana get the best of both worlds.

Morgana slips the harness on, adjusting the straps easily. She's done this enough times that's almost second nature, and she's moving Gwen's legs, sliding between them, before she realizes it.

Gwen stirs, murmuring sleepily, but Mithian is there to soothe her, running fingers through her curls. Morgana likes it when Gwen is panting and moaning beneath her, begging to be allowed to come, but she doesn't want that tonight. 

"I let her orgasm earlier," Mithian says, when Gwen settles back down. "It only seemed fair when she was so good to me. So it's all about you."

Morgana parts Gwen's cheeks, tugging on the base on the plug still inside her girlfriend. It resists for a moment, then slides out with an obscene sound. The lube is still fresh, and Morgana slides two fingers inside, just to feel how Gwen's body clenches around her. In moments like this, Morgana wishes she had a real cock, wonders how Gwen would feel around her then.   
It takes no time at all for Morgana to lube the dildo and slide into Gwen's pliant body, leaning over to kiss Mithian at the same time. It's a sleepy kiss, soft and quiet like their kisses never are, much like the night around her, and Gwen's body beneath her. The pac she sets as she fucks Gwen is slow and steady. She's in no rush to get off, doesn't have to worry about teasing.

Mithian croons into Gwen's ear when they finally break apart, and Morgana focuses on that, and the deep, rhythmic breaths Gwen is taking. She doesn't wake, even as Morgana speeds up her thrusts.

"I'm going to fall asleep if you don't hurry," Mithian says finally, reaching out to tweak one of Morgana's nipples. It sends a shudder down Morgana's back and she shifts her legs, making the vibe pressing firmly against her clit. 

"You can sleep," Morgana responds. "I'll clean up when I'm done."

"Make sure you do." Mithian shifts beneath Gwen and Morgana stills for a moment, letting her get comfortable and rearrange Gwen. "Don't stay up all night."

Morgana leans in closer to press a kiss to Gwen's shoulder and Mithian's forehead. Mithian won't actually sleep, she knows, but it gives her the freedom to not take her time and not worry about anything. 

Morgana hates working late, but returning to her girlfriends, even when they're mostly asleep on her, makes the nights tolerable. 

**3.**

"Well, at least I know you weren't trying to stand me up." 

Merlin reaches for the cup of tea Arthur offers him and tries to snuggle himself down further into the duvet. "I'm not actually ill, you realize."

"Mmh." Arthur places his own tea on the side table, settles himself on the bed next to Merlin, and runs his palm over Merlin's bed-rumpled hair. "You sound pretty awful. Maybe I ought to be glad you missed my first three calls if you sounded worse than this when you woke up." 

Merlin's ear flush pink with embarrassment. "... just hay fever," he mumbles into his tea, "took my antihistamine tablet last night..." He lowers his mug to rub at his eyes and his nose. "In the middle of the night. Didn't think I'd actually oversleep, though. I was looking forward to breakfast." 

Between the quiet wistful tone in Merlin's voice and the huskiness still roughing it up, Arthur's heart does a little flip in his chest. Of all the places he ought to be right now, here is not one of them. Of all the appointments in his calendar, of all the events that have been planned for the past few months, of all the places that the Prince of Wales needs to be on this Tuesday morning, a small bedsit in a university town is most definitely not one of them. 

"That might be my fault, expecting you to be ready by six, when I have a meeting at ten." Arthur leans in to nuzzle against Merlin's ear, breathes in the bed-warm scent of his skin, and smiles when Merlin shrugs, then yawns. "Finish your tea," he murmurs, and takes the cup when Merlin's about ready to doze off against him.

Everything about the situation is ridiculously endearing, from Merlin's bleary expression to his chipped mugs for tea to his bare feet sticking out from under the duvet. Two months, one of which they spent bickering at each other over emails and texts, doesn't seem quite long enough to cause the fluttering warmth inside Arthur, but there it is. 

Ridiculous and endearing and inconvenient.

It doesn't matter, Arthur decides, and presses a kiss into Merlin's hair. He'll make it convenient. He'll rearrange the parts of his life that aren't planned out on a yearly calendar, he'll fit Merlin into the empty spaces and ask the best way he knows how to be fitted into the same spaces in Merlin's life. 

Because, really, this is what Arthur wants: to be sprawled out on Merlin's bed, half-dressed for the day, awake while Merlin's still sleep-mussed and bleary. He wants to start most of his mornings too early so he can press his face into Merlin's hair and slide his hand over Merlin's stomach to coax pleased murmurs from Merlin as he wakes up. 

Arthur rests his hand on Merlin's stomach to feel the rise and fall of his breath; when Merlin edges closer and nudges one of his bare feet against Arthur's, he slides his hand lower. Merlin's half-hard, and he arches with a tired sigh to press himself up closer to Arthur's hand. 

"Feels good," Merlin says, his voice still rough and tired, and sighs again as Arthur strokes his cock.

"You're hardly awake." 

Merlin makes a little sound at the back of his throat, sleepy pleasure and agreement, and shifts so his body is a line of warmth all along Arthur's body. He makes the sound again when Arthur strokes him to full hardness and rests his hand atop Arthur's when Arthur makes a move to tug down his boxers.

"Don't need to rush. Just..." He gives a little half shrug and rolls his hips to rub his cock up against Arthur's hand.

From there, Arthur gives what has to be the longest, laziest hand job. He keeps stroking Merlin through his boxers, until he's hard from touching Merlin and listening to his breath quicken. 

When Arthur finally touches him, skin to skin, Merlin gives a gasp that sounds as if it comes from somewhere deep inside. He arches and moans, and comes messily over his stomach and Arthur's hand. 

His eyes are bright when he turns to look at Arthur and his lips are warm and urgent when he presses them to Arthur's mouth. "Stay," he says, "stay all morning. Here, in bed, with me."

"Maybe longer," Arthur says. 

**4.**

The golden-haired prince fought his way through the thicket of thorn trees, hacking at them with his second-best sword.

*Damn, no amount of sharpening is going to save this sword,* he thought. *I hope this princess is worth it.*

But then he felt guilty for complaining. He was the Crown Prince of Camelot, and he was sworn to protect those in need, particularly if they were of noble birth.

His name was Arthur, but he had overheard a couple of giggling maids saying that the people called him Prince Charming.

And charming he was, and polite, and the kingdom’s best warrior. His parents, Queen Ygraine and King Uther, constantly let him know how high their expectations were for him.

He was closer to his mother, and as he worked through the thicket he recalled that he had once confided to her that while all of the noble ladies he met were pleasant and nice to look at, he didn’t find them all that interesting. And he had even hinted to her that he had feelings for Lancelot that came close to The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name.

But Lance had married one of the serving girls in the castle, and Ygraine had assured him that when the time came, his heart would tell him the right thing to do.

“Always follow your heart, dearest,” she told him, and then kissed him on the cheek and said, “Aren’t you late for training? You always seem happiest when you are bashing things around with your friends.”

Pushing aside thoughts of how he was indeed happiest when he was hot and sweaty and rolling around in the dirt with well-muscled young men, Arthur finally reached the clearing where the princess lay on an elaborate bed. He marched purposefully up to where she lay, prepared to kiss her awake, and got the biggest shock of his life.

The Princess Emrys he had been sent to rescue was no princess. 

A _man_ lay on the raised bed.

Arthur was brave and loyal and handsome. But even his closest friends would have to concede that he was not the most flexible thinker in the kingdom.

He stood with his mouth open for a minute or two, then firmly clamped it shut and strode over to investigate the situation.

It was a charming scene. The man was laid out on the most elegant bed imaginable, with hangings of pure white silk and fine lace, and velvet bedcoverings with rich embroidery. The man looked young and comely, with black hair and pale skin. His lips were red and had a very appealing cupid’s bow. 

Regardless of the gender issue, this man was clearly in an unnatural sleep, and clearly needed kissing.

Arthur leaned over, making sure to arrange his cape artistically over the man’s body for maximum aesthetic impact, and touched his lips to the dark-haired man’s.

Nothing.

He kissed him more firmly.

Nothing.

Finally he gave him a deep kiss, slipping his tongue into the man’s lax mouth.

Still nothing.

Frustrated at being unable to complete his mission, the prince thought aloud. “Is there *something else*I’m supposed to kiss?"

He ran his eyes down the man’s body, and saw that there was a nice stiff erection under the man’s trousers.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ Arthur thought philosophically as he unbuttoned the trousers to reveal a formidable cock, purplish and handsome.

It looked delectable.

Arthur gave it a tentative lick, as if it were one of the ice lollies Cook used to make him when he was a boy.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt the sleeper’s body twitch. 

Encouraged, because he hadn’t hacked his way through all those brambles to go home without rescuing _someone_ , Arthur bent to his task.

He sucked in the tip of the man’s cock, then fed it into his mouth inch by inch, pulling back a bit when it hit the back of his throat.

Then he licked and sucked the shaft and swirled his tongue around the head with a good will, enjoying it much more than was probably appropriate for the circumstances.

He felt the hot rush of the man’s release on his tongue, and bravely swallowed it.

The man awoke, and he had the most gorgeous blue eyes. He smiled at Arthur.

Arthur announced grandly, “I am Prince Arthur of Camelot! Come away with me to my home!”

“I am Emrys,” the man answered.

And they lived happily ever after.

**5.**

Arthur opens his eyes and has to blink several times against the glare of the sun. The river waters sparkle in the light, and a faint breeze blows in the trees, soothing.

“You’re late.”

Merlin’s sitting by the river, bare chested, breeches rolled up to his knees, his toes dipping in the water 

“Sorry,” Arthur says, sitting beside him and pulling off his tunic. “Had a few things to take care of before bed, didn’t think it would take this long.”

He’s suddenly pushed on his back, Merlin straddling his hips, grinding his groin lightly against Arthur’s.

“Someone’s eager,” Arthur says hands over Merlin’s chest. “Bit forward for a servant.”

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Merlin, what about the stocks?”

“Is this your way of asking if you can tie me up?”

Arthur laughs and lifts up his hips to match Merlin’s rhythm. He pulls Merlin down into a sweet kiss that quickly turns messy and urgent and rough. “Fuck,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I missed you.”

“Me too, me too,” Merlin says, warm against his jaw. “Gonna fuck you so hard.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and laughs, but it’s cut short by a particularly clever twist of Merlin’s hips. “I don’t think it’s entirely appropriate for princes to—Jesus fuck—to get fucked by their servant.” Arthur kisses Merlin’s collarbones, hands wide across his back, nails lightly scratching down along the bumps of Merlin’s spine, making him shiver.

“Nonsense,” Merlin say, lips against the corner of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur darts his tongue out to lick at the bow of his upper lip. “Princes love that. All day—fuck—all day they have to be in charge all manly and responsible and shit, so it’d make sense that—” Merlin’s groans and leans back, fingers fast and clumsy on Arthur’s laces, pulling out his hard cock, immediately licking at the head. “It’d make sense that they’d want someone to take care of them at night.”

Arthur raises himself up on his elbows, heat already pooling in the pit of his stomach, coiling tightly under his skin. It’s been too long and he’s not going to last. 

“Yeah?” he says, a bit breathless at the sight of Merlin’s mouth stretched wide around his cock, pale, long fingers wrapped around the base.

“Yeah,” Merlin says, pulling off with a wet popping sound. The wind feels cool against Arthur’s cock. “So, let me take care of you, _Sire_.”

Arthur snorts even as he’s panting harder and harder, Merlin’s hand working fast over him. Merlin slips his other hand between Arthur’s thighs, one finger slowly tracing the outside of his hole, making Arthur’s breath catch in his throat.

“I hate when you’re away,” Arthur says, staring at the sky.

“Two more weeks, that’s all.” Merlin kisses the inside of Arthur’s knee softly “Please tell me you programmed in lube,” he says. 

“In the saddle bags.” Arthur bucks his hips wanting—needing—Merlin’s mouth back on him.

“Good,” Merlin says, tongue flicking across Arthur’s balls. “Don’t want any of that other crap you had us used last time. You and your goddamn fantasies, I swear—”

“God fucking dammit, Merlin. Shut up and just suck me off already.”

Merlin smiles, trails the inside of Arthur’s thigh with soft, tender kisses that have Arthur _almost_ as breathless as when he takes Arthur’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard. Almost.

It doesn’t take long. It all builds too fast inside Arthur and he buries his hands into Merlin’s hair, closes his eyes against the sun, and comes with Merlin’s warm mouth around him, his fingers digging harshly into Arthur’s hips to keep them still.

Merlin licks and clean Arthur’s cock, making him twitch, before lying his head on Arthur’s stomach to catch his breath.

“What have you planned for us tonight?” he says.

Arthur tugs lightly on his ear. “First, you’re going to fuck me. Then we’re going to go to a tavern, get into a brawl, and be saved by an handsome, roguish bloke.”

Merlin lifts his head to look at him, a pleased glint in his eye. “Threesome?”

Arthur grins. There’s a sound to his right and he turns his head to see a deer drinking by the river, jerking back and forth, its body flickering in and out rapidly.

“I think there’s a glitch in your DreamSkype™,” Merlin says, and Arthur groans. It’s the third time in as many months.

“I’ll have it checked tomorrow,” he says. “Now, peasant, make good on your promise.”

**6.**

"Vivian?" Elena calls as she walks into her room. "Are you-- oh."

Vivian is asleep on her bed, arranged like a picture, her white dress (so virginal, such a lie) spread over Elena's coverlet.

Elena smirks. "So, we're playing that game, are we?"

She trails her hand up Vivian's calf and squeezes her thigh. Vivian continues snoozing, but she has practice.

Elena resists the urge to tickle her feet or throw water on her. Vivian will be cross if she does, and she has a better idea anyway.

"Awake, my lady," Elena says and leans over, planting a chaste kiss on Vivian's lips. Nothing happens, as she expected. Elena kisses her again, then licks at the corner of her mouth. She pulls away and tucks a lock of Vivian's hair behind her ear.

With a small thrill in her stomach, she presses Vivian's pink mouth open with her thumb, slips her tongue inside. It's odd, Vivian being so passive and quiet, her tongue quiescent as Elena's strokes against it.

When they were children, Elena was always the prince or knight, come to rescue the fair lady, and Vivian would direct her. Vivian was terrible at pretending to be asleep, and if Elena messed up, her eyes would snap open.

"No, not like that!" She'd say. "Too wet and sloppy. Do it properly!" And Elena would have to kiss her again.

Elena bares Vivian's breasts roughly, hoping to startle her. They're pale and perfect, and Elena licks one areola. She pinches the other nipple, making it darken and peak. Vivian sighs and Elena swears it sounds like a challenge: "Is that all you can do?"

She bites down and Vivian's breath hitches.

This is the fun part, where Elena gets to torture Vivian, and she can't do anything without admitting she's lost. Elena raises the dress slowly, kissing and nibbling, and pulls the fabric tight between Vivian's legs, cupping her palm over the mound. Then she ducks her head under the hem, intentionally clumsy as she rubs her face against Vivian's soft skin and golden curls, loving the rich smell, the heat, and the almost imperceptible twitches Vivian makes. 

She shoves Vivian's thighs wide and licks her up and down. Vivian trembles when Elena puts her mouth on her sensitive nub and her hips tilt up, seeking. Elena uses her fingers to spread Vivian's folds, dipping over the hole, teasing but not pushing in. 

Vivian whimpers and Elena levers herself up on an elbow to see her. She's flushed and panting, eyes determinedly shut. 

"Are you seriously asleep?" Elena chuckles. Her fingers still and Vivian makes a sound of protest. Elena presses two inside her, relentlessly scissoring them, and Vivian convulses.

"What was that?" Elena asks conversationally. "Are we awake now?"

Vivian glares down at her, panting and flushed.

"Are you going to make jokes or fuck me?"

"I can't do both at once?" She suits words to action, adding a third finger and licking over Vivian's clitoris.

"Oh, yes, yes, you're very talented," Vivian says, throwing her head back. Then she's grabbing Elena's arms and tugging, and Elena goes, landing not-very-gracefully on top of her.

"I don't think this is going to work," Elena says, moving her fingers experimentally. They're still inside Vivian, but the angle is all wrong.

"Do you have a better idea?" Vivian is breathless, squirming. Elena presses her thigh between hers. She's turned on too, and it's hard not to just hump against Vivian, still wearing all her clothes, but she has something else in mind.

Elena leans back against the headboard and has Vivian sit in front of her. 

"Spread your legs," she tells Vivian, and uses her own legs to keep them open. Her hand makes slick sounds. She feels tighter when Elena presses her fingers back in, trying to close her thighs and moaning shamelessly loud when she can't.

"What if your father walked in? Or my father," Vivian adds.

"I don't want to think about either of them right now."

"Okay, what about Arthur? What if he was watching us?"

"Then he would probably think you were a little slut," Elena says and Vivian clenches and goes wet around her fingers.

"Oh, God." Vivian says. "Can you-- please?

Vivian keeps turning her head to bite Elena's neck, testing the hold Elena has on her, refusing to behave, and finally Elena gives in and slaps her, right between her legs. Vivian comes, wailing so loud that Elena covers her mouth with her free hand. She presses back in, fucking Vivian until she hisses and forces Elena's hand away.

**7.**

If Merlin was any more tired, he could audition for The Walking Dead and get the part of every zombie, including the ones in the back who, quite frankly, need a good plastic surgeon. There was only one thing on his mind as he shuffled about, too tired to walk: his nice, soft, cozy bed. Just the mere thought of said reclining cushion made him salivate, metaphorically speaking. As he neared his room, his smile gradually spread across his face, as slowly as the chocolate gets spread on the cookies in the Milano commercials. Played at half speed. Entering his room and heading straight for the bed, he was ready for a well-deserved good night’s sleep. His body already making the transition from standing to full-on sleeping log mode, he fell swiftly, ready for the soft mattress support his form until…  
The soft mattress supported his form. He fell straight onto the bed, just like this joke on its face.   
Heaven.   
Some indeterminable time later, the mattress dipped as someone—presumably Arthur sat down.   
_Go away, I’m sleeping_ , he wanted to say, but his treasonous lips said “Mprllff.” Of course, with his lips being the traitors they were, he wanted to hang the bastards, but couldn’t do so without grievous bodily harm.  
“Wake up Merlin, come on. We’re late for the reservation as it is.” Arthur shook him, adding a few prods here and there. Merlin didn’t mind the them, but he wasn’t into being branded, even for sex.   
“Fine fine,” Merlin grumbled, and stood up, following Arthur sleepily toward the door. The second Arthur walked out, Merlin slammed the door shut, locked all 47 bolts on the door—well, 46 actually. If he locked the last one, he’d never be able to get out and would subsequently die of starvation. Not a very nice way to go, all things considered.  
He ignored the banging and shouting on the other side of the door.  
He had just closed his eyes and drifted half way to dreamland, he heard a rattling by the balcony window. The skeletons neighbors next door were really kinky, he thought.   
Then the window opened, and Arthur stumbled inside.  
“God Arthur, can’t you just let me sleep?” He groaned, rolling over onto his back and shielding his eyes from the light.   
“No,” Arthur said, annoyed, “Look, will you _get up and get dressed_ please?”  
“No.” Merlin said childishly, flinging the covers over himself, like a caterpillar building it’s cocoon. Hopefully, like the caterpillar, Merlin would emerge from his bed a new man, one that’s not lacking in sleep. Although wings would kind of be a deal breaker.  
It was not to be when Arthur yanked the covers off the bed.   
“Fine, I’ll strike you a deal.”   
“I just want to sleep,” Merlin whined.  
Arthur ignored him and set about taking off Merlin’s pants and socks in quick succession. He shimmed out of _his_ own pants, and bent down to take Merlin’s cock in his mouth.   
Merlin’s hips bucked into the heat, even as he moaned, “That’s not fair.”  
Arthur gave him a look, _I don’t play fair_ , and began to suck Merlin off in earnest. Merlin writhed under Arthur, like a fish on a line.  
He gasped and stuttered as Arthur did something filthy with his tongue.   
“Arthur, I’m close, I’m so fucking _close_.” He begged, and Arthur, the ass, pulled off and smirked, while stroking his own cock leisurely.   
“Here’s the deal.” Arthur points. “I’ll finish you off, if and only if you get up afterwards and get dressed.”  
Merlin frowns, “No deal,” and reaches down, just as Arthur grabs his wrists and pins them down to the bed.   
Merlin growls, frustrated. Arthur just laughs and grinds his erection on Merlin’s, maddeningly.   
“Fine fine!” Merlin finally yells, over stimulated and desperate. Arthur’s hips bucks down, setting a pace that he knows Merlin loves, and Merlin pushes back hard until they both cry out and go over the edge.   
As they catch their breaths, Merlin says with feeling, “I hate you.”  
Arthur just sits up, and says “I love you too.”

**8.**

Arthur stares at the campfire and lets himself be mesmerised by the dancing flames. Beneath his head, his travel sack is lumpy and uncomfortable, and yet it’s not nearly distracting enough. He listens to the sounds slipping from the tents behind him as Merlin visits each of his knights, one by one, offering himself up as sacrifice before tomorrow’s battle. The heat in Arthur’s face has little to do with his proximity to the fire.

Gwaine’s the first, always too eager. The flames rise and fall with the bitten off sounds he draws from Merlin, and Arthur clenches his fists to stop from touching himself, knowing he has a long night ahead of him. Next is Leon’s faint whispers and wet kisses. Elyan is surprisingly loud while he steals the sweetest whimpers Arthur’s ever heard from Merlin’s lips.

Percival’s last; Arthur’s not surprised at Merlin waiting until he’s dripping with the release of three other men before accepting Percival’s massive cock.

The moon’s high, floating boldly above their camp by the time Merlin stumbles towards the fire. His nightshift is wrinkled and damp with sweat; the smell of sex on him makes Arthur’s nose twitch and cock ache.

“They’re done with you, then?”

Merlin grunts and falls face-first onto his bedroll. Arthur can feel Merlin’s bone-deep exhaustion, but Merlin’s duties aren’t quite finished for the night.

He crawls the metre between their bedrolls until his knee brushes against Merlin’s thigh. “Expecting me to do all the work?” He slides his hands up the worn linen to reveal the pale, naked skin of Merlin’s arse. “As usual.”

The muffled noise Merlin makes is more of a snore than words. The implicit trust Merlin’s showing him now, sprawled out and vulnerable, sends a frisson of warmth through Arthur’s body.

Arthur chuckles, pressing a kiss to the small of Merlin’s back. “I’ll just wake you for the important bits.” He gets something unintelligible as a reply.

The night is chilly, even by the fire, so he doesn’t strip Merlin, only tugs the shift up high enough to kiss his way down the knots of Merlin’s spine. He spreads Merlin’s arse cheeks with his thumbs, showing off the swollen, abused hole. It’s red and glistening with come and oil. The mess that has already spilled from him reflects in the firelight, shimmering on Merlin’s inner thighs.

Arthur’s tongue tingles as he settles his shoulders between Merlin’s thighs, already anticipating the first taste. He nuzzles at the wet skin along his cleft until the scent of his men’s come makes his head fog. 

Merlin moans softly as he drowses.

 

Arthur darts out his tongue, following the crease until furrowed muscle twitches beneath mouth. Merlin shifts, muttering something that sounds encouraging, then drifts off again. 

Taking his time, Arthur cleans Merlin’s hole with short efficient licks while Merlin slowly squirms himself awake with the stimulation. There’s a hushed murmur winding its way through the quiet camp. His knights have been gathering by the fire, forming a circle with him and Merlin at the centre. He spares a thought to what he must look like, a king with his face buried in his servant’s arse, but feels no shame.

Arthur sucks deeply at Merlin’s hole, seeking out more of the combined taste of them -- his knights and Merlin. They are bitter and sharp. Powerful together. He consumes it greedily, knowing his belly will be full with it as they ride out tomorrow.

Merlin’s grown restless, desperate under the attention, no longer being dragged under the pull of sleep but eagerly pushing back onto Arthur’s face, whining for more.

Sitting back to a kneel, Arthur wipes his filthy face. “Are you awake enough now?”

“You’re such a prat.” Merlin shoots a glare over his shoulder and rises to his hands and knees.

Merlin’s so wet, so open, the head of Arthur’s cock slips inside the moment he gives a testing push. He thrusts his cock in with a smooth jerk of his hips, and Merlin whimpers, clearly still tender. Arthur takes it slow, settling into a rhythm of long deep strokes.

The knights stir, impatient, high off adrenaline and Merlin’s magic. The fire pops and hisses as the tension grows, swelling with each pant from Merlin’s mouth. Arthur snaps his hips one final time, holding himself deep, trembling through his orgasm.

Merlin follows him quickly and the fire bursts to life, the flames flickering blue, blinding and bright, for an instant.

The spell has taken hold.

**9.**

The secretary gives him a dismissive once-over. “You’re here for the one o’clock appointment?”

Arthur settles the brim of his hat lower over his brow. “Yes,” he says. 

The secretary picks up the telephone receiver. “There’s a Mr. Penn here to see you,” she says into it primly. She listens for a moment, then hangs up. She nods at Arthur. “Miss Le Fay will see you now.”

*

Miss Le Fay sizes him up with sharp green eyes, blowing smoke from her cigarette artfully as she studies him. “Why are you here, Arthur?” she finally asks.

Arthur tries not to show his surprise. He only left his last name, and an abbreviated one at that. Perhaps Miss Le Fay is not the charlatan that the papers make her out to be. 

Before he can respond, Miss Le Fay leans closer. “And I don’t mean Uther’s campaign to end—what is his slogan again—” she asks, pausing to wave a gloved hand through the air, “hoaxes, shams, and swindlers, was it?” She smiles at Arthur, cat-like. “I mean, what are _you_ doing here?”

Arthur swallows hard. “I want to remember.”

*

The pendulum swings slowly in front of him. Arthur struggles to follow it with his eyes. 

“Listen to my voice,” Morgana says. She insisted that Arthur call her by her given name, once she was sure he was serious about reliving his past. “The pendulum is only a tool.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and nods. If his father knew, but he doesn’t, can’t. He pushes all other thoughts out of his head and concentrates on Morgana’s voice.

“I will count backwards from three,” Morgana says, and her voice takes on an other-worldly quality, full of power and grace. “You will go back to the place you seek. If at any time you want to stop, you need only say my name and I will wake you. Do you understand?”

Arthur nods slowly, feeling his eyelids slide closed. It’s a strange feeling, letting go.

Morgana swings the pendulum thrice more, the golden object flashing before his eyes. “Three, two, one,” she says.

Arthur sleeps.

*

He dreams. 

His head rests comfortably in someone’s lap, a hand carding idly through his hair. A bit of sunlight dappling through the leaves shines through, and he looks up to see the face that haunts his waking moments smiling down at him. Arthur lazily reaches up for a kiss and—

—rips a strip off his shirt. Arthur ties it carefully around a strong, wiry arm that’s bleeding, _bleeding_ because of him, and Arthur has to make this right. Too many risks have been taken in his name, especially by the one whose arm he’s binding. He’s someone familiar, Arthur knows him, he does, but can’t place his name. But that doesn’t matter right now, right now they need to get back home to the castle where it’s safe, where they—

—tumble into bed, hands and limbs everywhere, touching, tasting, and reaching for one another. Arthur can’t keep his hands in one place for long, roaming all over pale skin and sharp planes. His mouth follows, tracing the pattern his hands make. Arthur needs to take him into his mouth, the taste bitter and strange but welcome, soothing an ache he carries in his heart. Arthur never gets tired of this, of learning all the secrets of their bodies, or of making new ones together. They move like shadow and light, one unable to exist without the other. Arthur sinks into his tight heat, moving sharply, wanting to feel every inch of him until he remembers—

—saying thank you as the darkness takes him to the one person who was with him through it all, who was his everything and more, an indelible presence even after a lifetime apart.

He wakes.

*

“Merlin.” The name is on his tongue when Arthur awakens. His eyes are wet, and also possibly his trousers.

He turns to Morgana, who looks pale and drained. The pendulum is in her lap, the folds of her gown crumpled around it. 

Arthur stands, straightens his tie, sets his shoulders back. He leans over and brushes a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Morgana,” he says.

Morgana looks at him, her eyes unfathomable. “I hope you found what you were looking for.”

“I’m going to,” Arthur says, and heads out the door.

**10.**

Arthur closed the bedroom down quietly and made his way toward the bed, shedding his clothes as he went. It had been a very long day, and all he wanted was to snuggled down into the warm blankets and wrap himself around the gorgeous man slumbering in his bed. Arthur smiled as he stopped next to the bed, taking him in.

Merlin’s face was completely relaxed in sleep, lying on his side on Arthur’s side of the bed, his lips parted slightly as his even breath ruffled the fur of the cat on Arthur’s pillow. Gwen looked up and gave a sweet little meow before curl up tighter. Merlin wrinkled his nose at the sound and flipped over, pulling his own pillow to him and snuffling into it. 

Arthur’s breath ghosted out on a chuckle, and he finished pushing down his trousers and pants, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his socks. Shooing the cat off his pillow, he lay down and reached out toward Merlin, pulling him into the cradle of his body. Merlin grunted sleepily and wriggled back against Arthur before sighing contentedly. 

Arthur buried his nose in the short hairs of Merlin’s nape, letting his warm, sleepy scent wash over him and soothe away his stressful day. Laying gentle kiss along Merlin’s neck, Arthur felt his cock start to swell as the taste and scent of Merlin seeped into him. Slowly, so as not to wake his slumbering partner, Arthur’s hands wandered across pale flesh, stroking down Merlin’s flat stomach.

Arthur’s fingers tangled in the coarse hair low on Merlin’s belly, and he froze for a moment when Merlin murmured and shifted against him, rubbing his bum against Arthur’s hardening cock before settling again. Dragging his lips along Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur reached further down until he found Merlin’s flaccid cock, curling his hand around it protectively. 

Arthur wasn’t sure why, but he liked playing with Merlin’s limp dick. The feel soft flesh in his hand was intoxicating to him, and he made sure to keep his movements slow and careful so as to not wake Merlin. It wasn’t often that he got to indulge, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Moving slowly, Arthur lifted himself onto his hands and gently rolled Merlin over onto his back. He kissed his way down Merlin’s body, allowing the salty taste to settle on his tongue as he made his way toward his goal. Dragging his nose through coarse black hair, he pulled the very tip of Merlin’s cock into his mouth and suckled gently. 

He moaned quietly at the soft, squishy feel of it and ran his tongue slowly around the head before sucking the rest into his mouth. He wrapped his lips around his teeth and gnawed gently, his hips rocking against the bed as Merlin twitched and squirmed beneath him. A sharp breath from above him cause Arthur to look up through his lashes and catch Merlin’s drowsy eyes.

“A’thur?” he slurred. “Wha?”

Arthur hummed around the cock in his mouth and sucked a little, looking questioningly at Merlin. Sleepy blue eyes blinked slowly before Merlin nodded and let his head thunk back against the pillow. Arthur let Merlin’s cock slide from between his lips, crawling up his lover’s body, and catching his lips in a soft kiss. Merlin’s lips were as pliant as his cock had been against Arthur’s lips, and he rocked his hips down against Merlin’s thigh. 

Merlin sighed and ran a tired hand down Arthur’s back, pushing down gently to urge him on. Taking the hint, Arthur sped his hips, rutting down against the crease of Merlin’s thigh. Leaning down, he caught Merlin’s bottom lip between his own, worrying it between his teeth as he felt himself getting close. 

It only took a few more strokes and Merlin arching gently against him, and Arthur came with a quiet groan, collapsing onto Merlin’s chest. Merlin reached up and patted tiredly at Arthur’s cheek until he looked up, and Merlin lay a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Sleep, Arthur,” he whispered with a yawn. “You’ll need your strength in the morning.”

Arthur rolled over and snuggled down into his own pillow, throwing a sheet over the wet spot at his knee. “Oh,” he said. “And why is that, exactly?”

“Because you’re doing that again in the morning. Only this time,” Merlin answered with a cheeky grin, “I plan to be awake for it.”

**11.**

He comes to him at night. At first they sit and talk, going over all the details of their lives together, saying the things that were never said. Sometimes they walk, exploring their setting, seeing how far they can walk before they hit the edge. They never do find it, no matter how long they search. Most nights they just fuck.

***

It's a little different each time but it's always worth it in the end. Arthur spreading him open and working his fingers in slowly, thrusting and stroking until Merlin comes untouched. Arthur laying beneath him, quivering with anticipation as Merlin pushes in slowly. Arthur's mouth on his, hungrily seeking out his tongue without finesse as Merlin strokes them both off. His mouth around Arthur's cock, enveloping it in a wet heat, swirling his tongue around the head until Arthur begs for him to move. 

Sometimes they fuck hard and fast like they'll die if they don't. Other times they spend hours slowly exploring each other's bodies: fingers trailing down spines, tracing around rib bones, counting freckles and scars alike. Some nights Arthur grabs his hair roughly and fucks into him with hard thrusts, not bothering to prepare him, Merlin aching with the burn of it. More often than not, they lie together and make love, taking time to stretch and stroke until they fit together like the gods designed them that way.

***

Tonight they engage in one of their rougher games. Merlin's hands are bound above his head by Arthur's belt. He's completely naked save for his neckerchief which is in his mouth. Arthur is kissing down his neck, sucking and biting, making sure to mark Merlin so the whole world knows who he belongs to. He licks into the hollow of Merlin's collar bone and Merlin moans around his gag.

Arthur stops and props himself up on his elbows. "Hush now love, you know the rules." Merlin nods mutely, his eyes begging Arthur to continue. Arthur smirks at him and slowly lowers his mouth back to Merlin's neck, continuing his progress downwards.

Merlin manages to keep quiet as Arthur drags his tongue torturously slow around Merlin's nipple. He shrinks the circle a little smaller each time, keeping his eyes locked with Merlin's. When he finally licks across the center and sucks the tip in his mouth Merlin's hips buck up with need but he doesn't make a sound. Arthur frowns unexpectedly and sits up.

"I'm sorry Merlin, I can't do this, not tonight." Merlin cocks his head to the side but holds out his bound wrists for Arthur to free. He pulls the gag out of his mouth and sits up.

"It's alright Arthur, we can do something else," he says, stroking Arthur's hair. "Or we can stop for the night. It's up to you."

Arthur looks up at him and his smile is so wistful it almost breaks Merlin's heart. "Just hold me."

They lie down again, face to face, and fit their bodies together. It takes a while for Merlin's erection to flag but Merlin barely notices the discomfort as Arthur presses gentle kisses to his lips and the tip of his nose. Arthur's thumb trails across his cheekbone and Merlin can't picture anything else he'd rather be doing.

"I'm sorry I ruined the game," Arthur whispers into his neck.

"Shhh," Merlin rubs small circles on his lower back. "Tomorrow we can choose a new game to try." He can feel the tears as Arthur presses harder into his neck but he doesn't comment on them, his only answer being tears of his own. They cling to each other like they're all that's left in the world until Merlin's eyes drift shut.

***

He wakes up clutching his pillow. He never knows if he'll be granted passage back again at night. He doesn't even know if the dreams are real. He chooses to believe they are. They're the only reason to keep living.

**12.**

Morgause grabbed Morgana's wrist and said, "Sister, what's wrong?"

As was usual for the past three days, Morgana's reaction was sluggish. Morgana shook her head slowly and moved her lips without saying anything, then seemed to catch herself and began again. "It is nothing. Please do not worry yourself about me."

Of course Morgause worried. "You haven't been sleeping. That's obvious to everybody here. Why not?"

Morgana's eyes widened just a fraction, making her look wild. "I just... haven't been able to."

"Is it nightmares still?"

From the look on Morgana's face, Morgause had guessed correctly. Troubling. She lifted Morgana's chin with a finger and looked her straight in the eye. "I can help you sleep, if you let me."

What memories passed behind Morgana's eyes, Morgause wondered. Did she recall that Morgause was the one to have saved her from near death, to eliminate the premonitions?

Whatever they were, Morgana slowly nodded and said, "Yes, all right."

"Very well then. Come, let us to bed." Morgause led Morgana to the bed chambers and bade Morgana to change into her night clothes while Morgause prepared a quick tincture.

She handed the concoction to Morgana. "Take this. It will make you sleep, and I will guide your dreams so they are pleasant."

Morgana looked at her with skepticism for but a second; after that, she drank the tincture and immediately began swaying. "Oh. My limbs--"

Morgause wrapped an arm around Morgana's shoulders and helped lay her to bed. Morgana's eyelids fluttered and her mouth moved as if to speak, but shortly thereafter she was fully slumbering.

Her expression did not remain peaceful long though. In a few short moments, she was thrashing, crying out against unseen attackers. 

"Hush, hush," Morgause murmured, petting Morgana's hair. She leaned down to place a kiss on Morgana's slack lips, which eased the writhing somewhat. Morgause's hand rested on Morgana's breast, kneading it.

Oh, it would be a lie to say that Morgause had not wanted to do this. Morgana was beautiful beyond words, and she had been wasted in Camelot. It had been so hard to bide her time, to wait for Morgana to come to trust her.

Morgause drew back, and immediately Morgana cried out. Her nightmares were hooked deep. It would not be easy to draw them out, but it would not do for Morgana to suffer so. 

Morgause pushed the nightdress up past Morgana's breasts and leaned down to lick at her nipples, suckling gently and relishing that Morgana once again calmed. She trailed her fingers down Morgana's smooth skin, feather-light, and the shivers this time were in anticipation, not fear.

When she came to the soft patch of hair between Morgana's legs, she stopped, doubt clouding her mind. Was Morgana still a virgin, untaken by any man? They had never discussed it. But the thought of a _man_ taking Morgana spurred her on. Morgana belonged to her now, and it mattered not what her past might have been.

Morgause dipped her fingers between Morgana's folds, taking note of every reaction. A gentle caress made Morgana's breath flutter, while a more pointed pressure made her moan. Her musk began to fill the air, and Morgause inhaled sharply, trying to memorize the scent. 

She had to taste Morgana. Morgause slid further down the bed -- causing Morgana to whimper in the process -- and pressed her lips to Morgana's cunt. Every lick made Morgana thrust her hips further against Morgause's mouth, as if begging Morgause to penetrate her deeper.

Morgause was more than happy to oblige. With one hand on Morgana's hips to steady her, Morgause began a relentless assault of deep thrusts with her fingers and flicks of her tongue across her clit. Morgana's moans of pleasure filled the room, an aphrodisiac all of their own. It wasn't long before Morgana clenched and shuddered around Morgause's fingers, and soon thereafter she stopped moving completely.

Sleeping peacefully at last.

Morgause righted Morgana's clothes and pulled the covers over her. She pressed a kiss to Morgana's forehead. "Sleep well, sister."

\--

The next morning, Morgana joined her for breakfast, looking far more refreshed. "The tincture you gave me did wonders. Should I ever have nightmares again, I would much welcome another dose."

Morgause smiled. "Of course. Anything you require, sister."

**13.**

Merlin wakes on Sunday just as the sun is fighting through the curtains. He has to wee something _awful_ and Arthur is trying to strangle him in his sleep—or well, it's Arthur's version of cuddling, which is really pushing Merlin to the edge of the bed in the night, stealing all the blankets and then putting Merlin in a head lock and relocating his knee to Merlin's spleen. 

He wrestles with Arthur's beautiful forearm for a good thirty seconds before there's a snuffle and a moan. Merlin's released, although he gets jab in the ribs from Arthur's knee, so he's free to go pee. Which his bladder thanks him for, even if the floor is a bit cold. 

Once he's finished, he's dead-set on getting back into bed and sleeping at least half the day away. 

Except he gets a bit distracted. 

Arthur's got one leg hiked up, his completely naked body stretched out across the sheets as he snores softly into the pillows. His arm is still cocked out, like he's holding Merlin in a strangle-hold but this time, it's purely metaphorically because the sun is literally _streaking_ across his body and wow. 

The morning light plays up the subtle shifts in Arthur's body as he sleeps, muscles twitching ever so slightly and Merlin can't help but stop and stare in reverence. 

When he slides back into bed, he doesn't bother trying to be careful. Instead he touches his fill, palming down Arthur's flanks and giving into the temptation to cup his arse, wrists pressing against the oddly hairless backs of his thighs. 

"Arthur," he says into the sleep-stale curve of Arthur's neck but he gets nothing more than a twitch in response. 

Merlin had gone to bed early last night and he knows it's early, but Arthur got in late from the office and had ridden Merlin while he was half-asleep. He hardly even _remembers_ his orgasm and it was barely three hours ago. 

Which Merlin can tell, not because of the time on the clock, but the way Arthur's well—

"Oh that's filthy," Merlin says and he can feel himself blushing. 

Because—

Well. Merlin's thumbs are wandering, pulling at the soft skin between Arthur's cheeks and it's... frankly, it's _wet_. 

"Arthur, Christ," Merlin mutters because Arthur's still sleepy soft, pushing back into his hands and arching. Merlin can't help it. He honestly has to. 

He drags his lips down the smooth column of Arthur's spine, teeth catching until he reaches the deep dip where he can worry the skin there until Arthur whines. Maybe he's on the edge of wakefulness or maybe he's still in the muzzy land of sleep—Merlin doesn't care. He can't stop himself. 

"I have to," he whispers against Arthur's back. "I've got to." 

Dawn is breaking in force when Merlin noses down the crease of Arthur's cheeks and licks up the soft, endless dip of his thighs to the wet, slick valley between. It's musty, maybe a little gross if Merlin attempts to be objective but he can't because Arthur's still wet with his come, sleepily groaning into pillows that smell like the both of them and Merlin has to eat him out. 

He just has to. 

He imagines he tastes himself there but it's just bitter, salty come and it's—more than just rimming Arthur's fantastic arse, it's Arthur climbing into bed hours earlier and working Merlin to orgasm because Arthur needed it, needed Merlin swelling and jerking inside of him until he was sloppy wet and satisfied. 

Merlin curls long licks until Arthur unfurls. He stretches out across the bed and moans, hips twitched and a tiny, "Merlin?" tumbles out. 

"Sorry, I just," Merlin apologizes, even as he jerks his own cock too roughly. Arthur's voice is wrecked, most likely from yelling at work but he sounds raw, newly fucked and it sounds like a promise or a taunt or—Merlin wants nothing more to fuck into him with his tongue and so he does so until Arthur's toes curl sharply and he moans into wakefulness. Arthur jerks back, pressing up into Merlin's tongue as Merlin pulls on his own cock. He's frantic, gone is the lazy Sunday press of his mouth and it isn't until Arthur slides his palm, fingers splayed, into Merlin's hair and yanks him forward—it isn't until Arthur forces Merlin to suck, riding his face with sharp grinds, that Merlin comes all over their sheets.

Arthur is grinning over his shoulder, cheeks flushed when Merlin pulls back, licking his lips. 

"Morning, _Mer_ lin." 

**14.**

Arthur loved the early morning hours best, when the noise and bustle of the outside world was dimmed and remote, kept at bay behind dew-fogged windows, while Merlin was warm and immediate around him. Nestled in his arms and their legs tangled, Merlin’s sleeping body was always soft and pliant, radiating a gentle kind of vitality. 

With the sunlight barely peeking into the windows of their flat, Arthur’s lips would find their way to that spot behind Merlin’s ear that had become like a second home. Merlin would make a soft noise, shifting to nestle closer into the familiar shape of his boyfriend behind him. The fingertips of one of Arthur’s hands would trail along Merlin’s side, down his elegant neck and shoulders, the bumps of his ribs, the dip of his hip. Arthur’s favorite part was when Merlin would move languidly against him, and Arthur would feel him still loosened and wet from the previous night’s lovemaking. 

When Arthur’s hand smoothed over Merlin’s hip, sometimes Merlin would make an encouraging noise from his throat or press back farther against Arthur, showing he was much more awake than he seemed. 

Arthur would take the invitation, his lips meandering between the sensitive spots along Merlin’s neck as two fingers reached easily inside, past the lingering slickness. Merlin would always take a deep breath, his arms and legs uncurling and stretching, while Arthur used his free arm to fit Merlin closer against the curve of his own body. 

Merlin’s breathing would turn slow and deep, until his head tipped back to find Arthur’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss that suspended breathing all together, while Arthur’s fingers pressed inside him and explored the relaxed, languid inside of Merlin’s just-awoken body. 

His languorous body opened easily to the stretch of three, then four fingers. Arthur would nibble along Merlin’s jaw, occasionally kissing his way back to Merlin’s mouth to taste the precious gasps and low moans that would float from Merlin when Arthur’s fingers brushed sparks or curled in so deeply, heat blossomed in even the farthest corners of his body.

At a certain point, the directionless waves of pleasure from Arthur’s exploring, caressing fingers would drive Merlin to start pushing back against Arthur, rutting against him mindlessly. The natural reaction of Arthur’s body would frequently bring him to meet the movements of Merlin’s, and more than once, the sleepy rocking of their bodies together had grown until the blankets became entangled around them and the whole bundle rolled from the bed. 

There, in an unplanned nest on the floor, Arthur would take Merlin slowly, his thighs opened to let Arthur in and then closed around his back. The speckles of morning sunlight drifting from the window would mix into the first glean of sweat on their skin, shared and mingling as Arthur held Merlin close, and Merlin twined around him with each successive seize and release of their bodies meeting. 

This morning hour was always a dangerous one. The outside world and everything it held would shrink away, consumed by the great heat and pull of Arthur’s strong body above and reaching inside, of Merlin’s supple form arching and melting in welcome from below. It would have been so easy to give up everything in favor of being encapsulated here in this moment – as long as they were together, sharing and opening themselves to each other before the day had even had a chance to find them.

“Stay,” Arthur whispered afterwards, hiding kisses in Merlin’s hair where Merlin lay nestled against his chest in the makeshift bed of blankets, the pair of them finally beginning to wake up.

“Mm, you know I have work.”

Yet the utter fondness Merlin wore in his eyes undid his words.

“Stay,” Arthur implored again, his arms cradling Merlin tighter.

Merlin called in sick, and they stayed housed in their private world for two a little while longer.

**15.**

“Well,” Elena says into her wine goblet. “We sure fooled them!”

“Indeed!” Gwaine’s voice comes out a little high. He feels like he’s got his back to the enemy, his bed huge and empty behind him. “Ah. Elena.”

“Listen,” Elena says. Her wedding dress swishes in lacy folds as she straightens her shoulders. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. I know you did this out of kindness, and I will be forever grateful. Tonight I shall put my on my nightgown and go to sleep, and you can do whatever seems best.” Her smile is bracing and kind, and Gwaine nods helplessly. Is that an invitation? He has no idea.

Gwaine wears trousers to bed that night, and shifts around, hyper aware of his limbs, and he cannot relax. Eventually he lets himself watch her breasts rise and fall against the restriction of her nightgown, and that lulls him to sleep.

He wakes in the middle of the night when he gets an elbow to the stomach and finds Elena pressed to his chest. “Sorry!” she says and shuffles away.

Gwaine wants to say that it’s all right, really, she can touch him any way she wants. But he doesn’t want her to think he’s trying to take this act of ‘kindness’—God, every time she smiles, he feels selfish desire bubble in his stomach—and take advantage of it.

*

They got married because Elena’s father was going to marry her off to the oldest and wealthiest of Camelot’s nobles and because Gwaine drunkenly proposed to her in a stupid attempt to cheer her up. She cornered him in a hallway the next morning. 

“When you said—, I know we’d had a lot of ale, but I have to ask—”

God help him, she reminded him of his mother in that instant, desperate and bound by the ugly fact of her nobility, and there was never a chance that Gwaine would say no.

*

Their first week of their marriage, they keep waking up in the middle of the night from touching each other. He’ll move away, or she’ll move away, and it’s not an issue. It’s even, occasionally, rather cozy.

On the eighth day, he wakes rutting against her behind, and he’s stuttering an apology when she reaches back to grip his thigh. She doesn’t say anything, but she digs her fingernails into his leg and rolls her body in a deliberate backwards grind.

Gwaine’s breath sounds too loud in the bed, and for a moment he’s still, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock filling. Then he feeds an arm around her waist and presses them together, waits another long breath for her to object, but she just pulls at his thigh, so Gwaine circles his hips in a rub against her bum. With his face pressed into her hair, he grinds, slow and careful, until she reaches up to shift his hand onto her breast.

He doesn’t know why it happens. Gwaine has touched a _lot_ of breasts, okay? And he’s lying there in a marriage bed legitimated by God and law, which should make it feel less illicit, except. As soon as her tit is in his hand, his balls contract and he says, “Oops,” and comes in his trousers against her arse.

 

*

When Elena realizes that he’s not going to turn her away, she’s brazen. She spoons up against him while he sleeps, she puts her leg between his legs, she tucks her lips under his jawline. And Gwaine—Gwaine must have left all of his experience and loose morals at the damn altar, because he still can’t bring himself to initiate anything, but he’ll go along with whatever she starts. He wakes up erect, in her arms, and it’s rather thrilling to hump her leg and wonder how she touched him while he slept.

Two fortnights after their marriage, Gwaine takes off his trousers before bed without thinking about it, and that must have been what Elena was waiting for, because he wakes up just as the tip of his cock touches her cunt.

She’s biting her lip in concentration as she works herself down, inch by inch, and when she looks up to see him watching her, she offers a smile.

“Is this…?”

“I’m in love with you,” Gwaine blurts, and she laughs, the vibration of it carrying all the way down to the clutch of her body around his cock.

**16.**

Arthur was enjoying a nice leisurely wank the first time it happened. A slow tease since there was no rush on the weekend.

His pace had barely picked up when he noticed a dip in his bed and upon turning his head found himself staring into two very blue, very terrified eyes.

With a yelp he jumped out of bed, grabbed a pillow to cover his cock and was just about to threaten calling the police when the stranger vanished into thin air.

The second time was two weeks later. Once again Arthur lay on his bed, stark naked, limbs spread eagle as he fucked into his hand.

He was moaning and panting as he pulled harder and faster. He was making so much noise that it took him a moment to realise there seemed to be moans coming from another man.

A man who was wearing odd clothes and a red neckerchief, his trousers pulled down and his own erection being fisted enthusiastically.

“Not real,” Arthur grunted, trying to rid himself of this hallucination like last time.

“I am real,” the sex-induced hallucination gasped.

Arthur’s hand froze on his cock. He was pretty sure hallucinations were not supposed to talk back (not that he was an expert). But this seemed too real. He could even smell the other man - a mix of barn smells and earth.

Quickly getting off the bed to interrogate the man, by the time Arthur looked back at the bed, it was completely empty. Getting on his hands and knees, he peered under the bed and could see no one. The man had simply disappeared.

Arthur convinced himself that the hallucinations had obviously been a fluke. It was not until the third visit that Arthur had to face reality - that his bed was some sort of sex portal.

“You,” the stranger gasped, almost exasperated, which was not fair since he was the one appearing on Arthur’s bed. If anyone had a reason to be exasperated, it was Arthur.

Taking action, Arthur quickly grabbed the other man and pinned him to the bed. Arthur tried to ignore that both of them were very naked and their erect cocks were pressed together in a way that was not conducive to coherent thought.

“How did you get into my bedroom?” Arthur demanded.

“Wha-? We’re in my bedroom,” the stranger said, as if Arthur was crazy.

Glancing around Arthur could only see the neutral wall’s, football posters and his dirty laundry waiting to be done in the far corner.

“I think I can safely say this is my room,” Arthur said.

“Get off,” the stranger said and tried to twist away. His twisting did little more than rub their cocks against each other. Gasping for breath, Arthur watched as the stranger stilled, and then slowly, licking his lips, he rolled his hips deliberately never taking his eyes off Arthur.

Groaning, he captured the man’s lips in a desperate kiss. He had already been so close that he would only last a few thrusts. 

“What’s your name?” Arthur begged as his cock leaked and he felt his body tighten.

“Merlin,” the man gasped.

“Merlin,” Arthur moaned as he came, Merlin following not far behind.

Blearily, he gave Merlin a quick kiss on his nose before he went to grab something to clean them off. Turning back to the bed there was nothing but messy sheets.

The following night Merlin appeared again as Arthur pleasured himself.

“I figured it out,” Merlin beamed, happily working Arthur’s cock as if he had done this a thousand times before. “As long as we stay in bed we can see each other.”

Figuring he must have finally cracked under the pressure, Arthur could not even be bothered. Especially when Merlin took his cock into his mouth.

Afterwards as they lay sated, Arthur played with Merlin’s hair.

“How long do you think we can just stay in bed then?” he finally asks. Merlin just smiles at him.

 

**17.**

Freya breaks the surface of the water with a refreshed gasp, peeling back the dark locks plastered to her face and neck with small, pale hands, and crawls onto the large stone in the middle of the river, water pouring down her naked body in rivulets. Thee heat of the smooth, sun-warmed stone feels pleasant emanating through her thighs and buttocks while she dangles her legs off the stone's edge, toes skimming the cool water.

She turns her face to the sky, seaweed necklaces swaying between her breasts. A lithe, black-haired boy chooses that exact moment to crash through the forest undergrowth onshore. Freya startles, clutching her knees to her chest, even though it's only Merlin, acorns and leaves lodged in his dark tufts of hair. He spots her, smiles, and gives her a quick wave before motioning for her to stay quiet. She shoots him a dirty look, but complies.

A golden-haired man crashes through the leaves and staggers into the clearing, sword raised. Freya doesn't recognize his silver raiment, but it shines when it catches the sunlight, much like the surface of water. Eyes darting around uncertainly, the stranger barks out, "Who's there?"

Freya glares meaningfully at Merlin, but he only smiles and shake his head.

The stranger stalks around the clearing, whipping around every so often as if to surprise his pursuer. Behind him, Merlin giggles hysterically. "Oh, you're _teeeeeribly_ imposing, sire." He circles around the stranger and flicks the side of his sword. "His name's Arthur," he tells Freya, "but I call him Prince Prat."

Freya tilts her head curiously. "Why?"

"He was tramping about my forest like he owned it, leading a hunting party. When he took aim at one of my unicorns--" Merlin jabs a finger at the crossbow slung on Arthur's back, and Freya gasps in horror. "--I couldn't resist leading him astray. Wasn't hard, just crunched some leaves and a snapped a branch or two." Merlin smirks.

"What's he doing?" Freya wonders aloud, as Arthur sheathes his sword.

"Gathering firewood, I presume."

Merlin's right. She wades to shore and sits cross-legged beside him, watching Arthur munch on a crust of dry bread and prepare a stew over the flames. Judging from the face he makes, it must taste awful, but he eats several bowls anyway.

"A prat _and_ a pig!" Merlin cackles, and as if to confirm it, Arthur burps loudly. Freya giggles, seeing Merlin all flushed and giddy, but she sobers when she catches sight of his long cock jutting straight up in his lap. 

"You desire him," she realizes. 

Merlin flushes even more, but he's not stupid enough to deny it when his erection is right there.

She covers his hand with her own, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she summons soothing waters. After a moment, Merlin joins her, conducting birdsong, until Arthur's eyelids droop heavily and his head lolls back and he lies defenseless on his back.

Eager, Merlin crawls to him on hands and knees. Freya watches in fascination as he traces dirty fingertips over Arthur's unusually plump lips, lightly stroking his erect cock with his other hand.

Before Fre realized, her hands are sunk deep in his soft, golden hair. When she tugs on it experimentally, and Arthur's lips part on a quiet moan. "Oh," she breathes, "He likes it!" Merlin grunts assent and Freya relishes the slick sounds he makes tugging on his cock, twisting at the head.

She unfastens Arthur's trousers, pulling them down along with his smallclothes. His cock, fat and pink, twitches in its nest of golden curls between muscle-corded thighs. Freya grasps it without hesitation, stroking steadily. It fills out quickly, hot and heavy in her grip and she straddles Arthur, pressing his cock to her folds, and bears down, sheathing him easily thanks to her enhanced lubrication. One glance at Merlin's glazed expression is all the motivation she needs to start rocking, stretching her hole. She bounces deliberately up and down, her tits bobbing obscenely, rubbing her clit.

Merlin, poor thing can't decide where to look, gaze darting from Arthur's furrowed face to her tits to the place where their bodies are joined Thrusting his narrow hips rapidly into his fist, he makes a noise like a sob and arches, shooting rope after rope of cum across Arthur's face--hitting his elegant nose, soiling his golden hair, splashing his cheeks. As if sensing this, Arthur erupts inside her, too.

Both of her boys sated, she surrenders at last to her own orgasm.

**18 >**

Gwaine wakes up with the bastard sun in his eyes, a splitting headache, and a beefy arm thrown across his middle. The house had thrown one hell of a party the night prior, one to rival all parties in the entire history of fraternities. Not that he remembered it all, but he had spotty memories that were pretty epic. Plus he could deduce as much from the way he had evidently passed out shirtless in someone else’s room. 

He hadn’t thought until this moment that you’d be able to fit two dudes comfortably in one twin bed, but there you go. Percival’s arm is wedged against the headboard, his legs entirely tangled with Gwaine’s. He shifts slightly, taking a look around the room to see if his pants made it into what he is pretty sure is Leon’s room. Before he has a chance to spot them, he’s distracted by the way Percival moves against him. 

They’re tiny movements, but completely impossible to ignore. Gwaine tilts his head back to confirm that Percival is still asleep, his expression unchanged as he gently thrusts his hard cock against Gwaine’s thigh. 

Gwaine isn’t prepared for the way his body reacts to this development. He rolls over, putting his back to Percival and fully intending to get out of the bed until two things stop him: a wave of nausea and a strong arm wrapped around his middle. Percival’s hand rubs across his bare stomach.

“Percival?” Gwaine’s voice sounds wrecked. He has a brief flash of a memory of standing on the back of the sofa shouting at Elyan about the eternal glory of beer sword combat.

Percival’s hand stills. His whole body is tense and somehow Gwaine knows he’s awake now. Their breaths are loud in the room, the rest of the house all still recovering from last night’s triumph. 

“Yeah?” Percival presses his nose into Gwaine’s hair, his hand twitching slightly against the waistband of Gwaine’s shorts. For a moment, Gwaine wonders if they’d...last night, before they’d passed out maybe. No, he would remember. He’s sure he would remember. 

The silence presses down on them until Gwaine remembers to respond. All is he says is “Nothing,” but the single word dissolves all the tension in the room. He relaxes back against Percival, enjoys the small sigh that stirs his hair. Percival shifts so his cock is pressed against Gwaine’s arse, and Gwaine’s shorts are tenting in a most incriminating fashion.

Percival thumbs the elastic of Gwaine’s shorts, fingers jerking oddly as he says softly “Can I...?” Gwaine nods, hips moving forward to push into Percival’s huge hand. When that hand closes hot and firm around Gwaine’s cock, he can’t stop himself from releasing a startled, laughing gasp. Percival snorts a laugh into the mattress as he starts properly working Gwaine’s cock. 

Gwaine squeezes his eyes shut as Percival moves behind him, his cock rubbing hard against Gwaine’s arse. For a few moments it’s perfection. Then Percival’s hand is gone. Gwaine’s eyes fly open in disappointed surprise, only to realize that Percival is sliding his own shorts out of the way. He wraps himself around Gwaine, cock pressed hot against the small of his back and hand stroking firmly once again. 

Percival’s frantic thrusts are more than Gwaine can stand. Much sooner than he wishes he feels the inevitable sweeping wave overtake him, and comes all over Percival’s hand. The most delightful, helpless sound escapes from Percival’s throat as a warm wetness covers Gwaine’s back. 

They lay there panting for a bit, until the sound of a door slamming down the hall shatters the mood. Gwaine rolls onto his back, utterly destroying Leon’s bedding without a second thought. Percival is looking at him with what Gwaine thinks might be concern, and that won’t do at all. He leans up to press kiss to Percival’s cheek, enjoying the way his eyebrows shoot up in response before the small smile appears on his face. “I need a shower,” he says, taking a moment to sit upright and gather himself enough to make it to the bathroom. He groans as he stands, wincing as his body revolts against the idea of relocating.

Percival nods, wiping his hand on Leon’s abused bed. His face is terribly serious when he asks “You want to maybe grab lunch? Later?” 

“Definitely,” he nods as he scans the floor of the room. Pants! Gwaine has pants! He grabs them triumphantly and makes his way to the shower.

**19.**

Freya _would_ be sleeping on her favourite doorstep the first time she got caught sleeping rough.

It was a nice doorstep. It had a thick mat that was almost like a mattress and a wide bootscraper she could prop her feet up on. She was fast asleep one Sunday morning when a pointy-toed shoe kicked her in the side.

“You can’t sleep here!” said the owner of the shoe. “Get up! I shouldn’t have to step over tramps to get out of my own front door!”

Freya blinked until the pink blur resolved itself into a blonde lady in a fancy hat. “You’re not usually up so early,” she said, too groggy for politeness.

“Hmph,” said the fancy lady. Then she said something that left Freya truly gobsmacked. “Well, I suppose you’d best come in. It’s not proper, a girl like you sleeping on the streets.”

*

When people asked Freya – as they were sometimes wont to do – how a ‘pretty thing’ like her came to be sleeping on doorsteps she normally told them she was Cursed. It frightened them off whether they believed her or not.

“I’m cursed.”

“Of course you are,” said the lady – Vivian, her name was – as she pushed a plate of last night’s leftovers into Freya’s hands. “Eat up.”

“I turn into a giant cat under the light of the full moon,” said Freya. Vivian clucked her tongue.

*

The first night, Freya slept under the stairs. The second night, she slept in a room in the servants’ quarters. The house was all shut up and almost empty.

“Papa’s away in the colonies till March,” Vivian explained. “You know, he’s always saying I should do more to help in the community. He’s a real philanthropist. That’s someone who gives money away,” she added hurriedly.

Freya knew what a philanthropist was, but she didn’t say so.

“Sometimes I eat people,” she said. “One time the morning after a full moon I threw up and there was an ear in it.”

“You’re an odd one,” said Vivian. “Here, try this one on.” She handed Freya a cast-off dress.

*

After the first week, Freya slept in the guest bedroom, which had a vast, soft bed before. She slept late, lounging around and exploring every soft fold of the eiderdown. 

But then the full moon came around and she had to sneak out. 

She woke up in the morning streaked with blood and wandered the alleys of London balefully until she arrived back at Vivian’s house without really meaning to.

When Vivian found her sleeping on the doorstep the next morning all she did was cluck her tongue and drag her inside for a bath.

“How did you get so dirty, anyway?” she said as she brushed Freya’s hair out afterwards.

“I don’t remember. I think I ate someone.”

“Well, maybe you should sleep in the cellar next full moon.”

*

She never got around to leaving Vivian’s room that night. As day turned to night the two of them curled up together in Vivian’s bed and slept warm and close.

Freya woke up the next morning to the feel of Vivian’s toes tickling the soles of her feet, Vivian’s breath soft and wet on the back of her neck. She didn’t realise how close they were pressed till she rolled over and found Vivian’s lips against hers.

She tried to pull back and apologise but Vivian said, “shush, you silly thing,” and kissed her again.

Vivian lifted her borrowed nightgown and pressed kisses to her flat belly until she found a ticklish spot and Freya giggled.

She still thought Vivian was just teasing until her tongue dipped into Freya’s tummy button in a way that made her gasp; then her head dipped and her tongue was sliding in between Freya’s folds.

She tugged Freya apart gently and then her mouth was back, pressing a messy kiss right where Freya was most sensitive, right where it made her squeal.

Vivian licked and sucked and explored till Freya’s thighs were trembling and she was cursing Vivian with every word she’d learned on the streets, and two of Vivian’s fingers pressed up inside her, pushing until she came.

*

Freya woke up again midmorning with Vivian’s face buried in the tangles of her hair, just stirring.

“I really am cursed.”

“Yes, well,” said Vivian. “Don’t tell Papa when he comes back. He’d make you leave, and I want to keep you.”

“But –”

“Shush, now. Go back to sleep.”

**20.**

The ads for the 24/7 clubs glittered in the odd neon twilight of the sleepless suburbs of the city. Gwaine sat over a drink and rubbed at his eyes as a girl shimmied along his thigh. He always went for the entertainment during the darkest hours, his fellow gamblers and losers giving the same dead-eye stares to the same girls.

He'd gambled high and lost higher. Sleep and words counted for currency here, and he'd exhausted his cashflow some two or so years ago.

"Hm?" Arthur asked, still wearing the fancy uniform and making do with sounds instead of words. He gestured with the glass behind the bar. Gwaine gestured _please and thank you_ back and got a refill for his troubles.

The music purred at background threshold, leaving just enough decibel for the quiet of the one couple on the dancefloor, the clink of glasses and the booming vowels of the man on the television.

He'd had months of _thanks but no thanks_ sleep where he wouldn't have to chase for some glances and some words when he'd met the kid. _I can do magic_ , the kid had sworn, and they'd gone around a circus freakshow. He'd got him to perform in the seediest clubs in the neon district. He'd stood outside and shouted for the sensation, the _no tricks, no gaffes, no special effects_ magic shows. Where attention was currency, they were golden.

The kid had been great at magic and better at talking dirty, cock in his mouth or not.

Gwaine threw back the drink and held his glass out to Arthur again, quietly waving for more, as the couple on the floor shuffled another round to a repeat of the same instrumental tune. 

He'd gambled on Merlin's arse when he'd been tits over heels for the nights he'd spent spreading his cheeks with his hands, face in the pillow, and Merlin's cock squeezing into his hole. Then not sleeping had been a choice. It wasn't now. Where attention was currency, going broke meant repaying all debts for the rest of that existence.

 _We can make it big_ , Merlin had said. And _I know what I'm doing_ , Merlin had said. _Destiny,_ Merlin had said, and Gwaine had been the sucker who'd lapped it up like a lollipop in the desert.

He had his hair for a bit of flair now, but had to roam the streets and wait for others to draw him in, their voices soaking into him when nothing got out and no chance to just stop, close his eyes and not exist for a while. They all ended up in the neon district, where the lights distracted from all they had been and all they weren't now.

Merlin sat next to him. He'd started coming a while ago. He gestured with his glass and played some magic trick with his fingers. He always sat too close, his thigh always touching Gwaine's, his hands dropping the cards far too often, until he was on his knees in front of Gwaine's stool, face buried in Gwaine's crotch.

Merlin mouthed at the fabric and got his tongue into the creases, this night and every night this week. He got the zipper down and his tongue through the slit, ran it over Gwaine's bare cock. 

Arthur poured Gwaine another drink and the couple shuffled on the dancefloor. Gwaine paid a little of his attention to everything, and Merlin had his mouth around Gwaine's cock, mind, but fucked if Gwaine gave him even an ounce of the sweet A.

Merlin sucked, and Gwaine fucked his cock into the hole he provided and came, but he never looked down, never looked across when Merlin slunk out of the bar.

Attention was the currency, and even if he never slept another minute in his life, Merlin wouldn't get one bit of it. The neon ads filtered in and flickered across the bar just before the door closed. He watched them go and wanted to close his eyes for just a moment. He couldn't.

**21.**

Soft flannel caressed his body. The warm sensations, like being held close by someone you loved, sank into him. He longed for that touch; the pass of battle calloused fingers as they traced nonsensical patterns on his abdomen, the feel of flesh on flesh as he sank deeply within him, his body blanketed by velvety skin. It had been too long since he felt that touch, too long since he’d looked into loving blue eyes or heard the voice as honeyed as his golden skin whispering words of love and lust.

He let his mind wander. Letting it fill with memories. The light tickle of hair as teeth nipped their way down his chest. The smooth glide of fingers pressing into him, opening him with sure strokes, and the twist and crook of fingers that sent jolts of pleasure racing though him. The smell of sweat on sun-kissed skin. The panting breaths gusting against his face. So many memories, so much to miss, so much to hope for.

Memories so vivid, excruciating in their longing, heaven sent in their ecstasy. His hand trailing down to tease his lengthening cock with feather-light touches as the smooth fabric continued to torment him reminding him of what he’d lost. Still he turned his head into the fabric, nuzzling against it as if it was his lover’s skin, remembering the smells of heat and spice and purity. He could almost smell it now, faint and teasing on the edge of his senses, a phantasm. He rolled his body into the bed sheets, almost able to believe it was his skin he was pressing against. Almost. 

He moaned as he spread his legs, hips rolling eager to find friction. He was getting close, closer to the image, the memory of the man he loved. He continued to roll his hips in slow shallow waves, waiting and wanting for more. The skin-like nap of the fabric as it brushed against him pushing him harder, faster; his body answering its call. Thrusting his leaking cock harder and harder against the pile, memories of nights on patrol too public for more than a quick rock of bodies, stolen moments in darkened alcoves, and rushed assurances after too close calls, spurring him on, filling the gaps between reality and fantasy. 

His mind became lost between time, then and now having no meaning as his body strove towards completion and his mind towards the man he would always love. His legs were spread wantonly now and the noises he was making were obscene in their base meanings. His hips driving his cock roughly against the sheets with every staggered breath, pushing him towards his release- a single moment where phantoms became reality and reality was just a shadow. 

He came with Arthur’s name on his lips and tears, leaking from eyes squeezed painfully tight, rolling down his pillow, soaking into the soft, red flannel. He let out a pained cry into the pillow, cursing himself and prophecy and fate. Another night spent waiting and wondering, another year, another century, and on they went lifetimes apart.

**22.**

_“We either shelter here or stay outside in the cold and rain all night.”_

~*~

Their clothing was soaked, laid out and might be dry by morning. The rain left Lancelot near-freezing and Gwaine’s mouth burns as he kisses down his back. Lancelot lays on his stomach upon their commandeered bed and clutches the sheets when something warm and wet pushes inside him.

It’s Gwaine’s tongue. Lancelot can _feel_ that smirk against his buttocks.

When Gwaine moans, the noise rumbles against Lancelot’s sensitive flesh. He doesn’t know what Gwaine does but it seems like his tongue _pulsates_ inside him and Lancelot pushes his hips back as his cock hardens against his stomach.

~*~

_“We can’t break in through a window!”_

_“Don’t be picky! We’d use the door except I’m banned from this brothel. Public girls become less accommodating when you ask about starting a tab.”_

~*~

They’ve been travelling together for three weeks. When Gwaine first kissed him they were both drunk. Most of the kisses after that were sober.

Now Gwaine’s tongue is hot, wet, presses inside him and Lancelot shudders, groans into the pillows. 

When Gwaine’s tongue leaves him, a soft whine slips from Lancelot before he can stop himself. Gwaine leans over, fumbles underneath the bed. Then utters a triumphant “ah-ha!” as he brings up a small pot of oil.

“How did you-?” But Lancelot is certain he can guess.

“I leave it here.” Gwaine flips the lid to the floor and coats his fingers with the pot’s contents.

He slides an oiled finger up where his tongue had been. Gwaine moves his touch slowly back and forth, slips in a second finger, then adds a third as he spreads Lancelot open.

~*~

_“You’ve snuck through this window before!”_

_“I liked Faye. She caught the eye of some passing Lord not long ago. Gone off for a bit of the high life.”_

~*~

Lancelot surprises himself when he flips Gwaine onto his back.

The shaft of Gwaine’s erection presses between his balls. Lancelot rocks his hips to rub them together, feels a hot clench in the pit of his stomach which makes his cock twitch. The soft groan from Gwaine is almost enough for Lancelot to keep grinding them together. But he spreads his knees, straddles Gwaine’s hips, reaches down and takes Gwaine’s oil-slicked cock in his hand.

Gwaine grasps Lancelot’s thighs and rolls his hips up, pushes the tip of his cock against Lancelot’s opening. Flesh presses together and pre-cum seeps between it.

“Wouldn’t have thought you the type for something like this,” Gwaine smiles.

Lancelot shakes his head. “Neither would I.”

He reaches with his free hand to spread his fingers over Gwaine’s chest, feels the thundering of his heart as he steadily impales himself.

~*~

_“Unclench for once in your life and get in here!”_

~*~

Gwaine thrusts his hips up, drives deeper and deeper inside Lancelot. And Lancelot rides the movements, lets it fill him as his toes curl and his head rolls back. When Gwaine pushes further into him, pleasure crashes through Lancelot, a hot ache twists inside his cock. The weeping head bobs against his stomach and there’s the desperate need for release but he can’t reach it.

Gwaine fixates upon him, his eyes dark, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. Lancelot slides his hand down the base of Gwaine’s cock, cups his balls, squeezes gently and Gwaine starts to writhe beneath him.

~*~

_“You keep hearing noises because it’s a whorehouse!”_

~*~

Gwaine’s hips move faster, fucks him hard and everything around and inside Lancelot seems to twist and tighten. His fingers keep teasing around Gwaine’s balls until he reaches round enough to push his palm against them and curl his fingers.

With a low cry, Gwaine comes inside him and Lancelot’s back arches as the spasm shudders through him.

“Gwaine,” he breathes out. “Gwaine, _please_.”

He’s still impaled on Gwaine’s cock, still feels it press so deep inside him that the smallest movement sets his body alight. When Gwaine takes hold of his erection, he strokes up and down three times before Lancelot comes in his hand.

While he waits for the haze in his thoughts to settle, Lancelot lets Gwaine draw him down and slip his cock out. As Gwaine nuzzles into his neck, Lancelot is dimly aware of the rain still hammering against the window, a warm cover drawing around him and then Gwaine’s kiss gentle against his lips.

~*~

_“It’s a bed in a brothel. What else would you suggest we do in it?”_

**23.**

The spell that Merlin used was a simple sleeping spell. He altered it – per request – so that Arthur will be aware enough to recognize and feel sensation. It was, essentially, a twilight sleep. 

Arthur laid himself on the bed, naked and already hard, moving until he felt comfortable. His legs were spread wide – enough that Merlin could fit between them – his hands laid out flat by his sides. He let out a breath and then nodded to Merlin, closing his eyes as Merlin began to work his magic.

His breathing evened out, his body relaxing, and then he was completely at Merlin’s mercy.

Merlin didn’t rush. This was his gift, a present that Arthur so graciously allowed him, and he intended to enjoy it. Slowly, he stripped out of his clothing and then slid onto the bed between Arthur’s legs, hovering over Arthur’s hard cock.

He leaned down, burying his nose just under the base and inhaled deeply, moaning. “I love the way you smell,” he whispered.

He was new at this and he didn’t know if Arthur could hear him but he talked, anyways, just in case. Tilting his head, he licked a stripe up Arthur’s erection and took the head into his mouth for just a moment.

The moan he let out was higher pitched, desperate. He let it slip out of his mouth long enough to say reverently, “the way you feel, the way you taste. _God,_ Arthur, your cock.”

Merlin slid back down to the base; this time, he worked his way up slowly, teasing with small kitten licks. He finally wrapped his lips around the tips again but this time he didn’t let it slip out, couldn’t even if he wanted to; his mouth felt so empty without Arthur’s cock filling it.

Merlin wasn’t sure how long he spent just suckling at the tip, greedy for Arthur’s taste, but it was a while yet before he finally took more into his mouth. By that time, his own cock was hard but he ignored it in favor of Arthur’s.

He sank down, savoring the way it felt sliding across his tongue, and then pursed his lips as he pulled back up. Again and again he did it, losing himself in the rhythm, in the simple pleasure of Arthur in his mouth.

It felt like hours that he devoted to this, to Arthur’s cock, but it still wasn’t enough. His jaw hurt and his cock throbbed but still he hungered. His movements became fast, sloppy, he was so desperate for satiation. 

In the end, he knew what he needed and he wouldn’t get it this way. It was hard to give this up, to have his favorite treat taken away from him again when he loved to savor it but he _needed_.

With a pained whimper, he released his magic.

Within the minute, he felt a hand in his hair and the contact rocked his body. He whimpered again and then couldn’t stop tiny, desperate noises from escaping afterwards.

“It’s okay.” Arthur’s roughened whisper floated down as his hand tightening in Merlin’s hair. “It’s okay, I know what you need.”

Merlin was urged down again and he went willingly, body relaxing as Arthur made Merlin take his cock deep into his throat. He held Merlin there for several seconds, choking him, before he pulled Merlin back up and then repeated the movement.

His hips bucked once, Arthur hissing above him, and then Merlin was being held up by his hair as Arthur fucked his mouth rough and deep. Merlin whimpered and moaned, choked off by Arthur’s cock again and again, but he didn’t care.

He never wanted this to end, wanted Arthur to use him like this forever. This was what he needed; Arthur’s firm hand, his hips pushing his cock deeper and deeper.

Merlin dug his nails into Arthur’s thighs, the heat in his groin becoming too much.

Arthur ordered, “ _come,_ ” just as Merlin felt the cock in his mouth pulse and felt his own release wash over him as he sucked greedily for more of Arthur’s come. He whimpered.

The hand in his hair loosened, petting him. “Hush,” Arthur ordered, fuzzy. “You can stay.”

Merlin moaned happily and laid his head on Arthur’s thigh, holding Arthur’s softening cock gently in his mouth.

Hunger satisfied, at least for now, it was easy to fall asleep that way.

**24.**

Merlin sits alone and naked in the back of a truck. He's perched on a finely decorated sheet with several pillows around him. There is a hood over the flatbed, but there are huge windows all around. The truck stops along a highway. From what Merlin can tell there are rows upon rows of large 18 wheeled vehicles. 

"Something sweet coming in." Arthur says into the CB. 

Merlin lets out a breath. He has blown Arthur with an audience so many times he lost count, but he enjoys putting on these kinds of impromptu peep shows most of all. 

The first silhouette walks by almost as soon as the truck pulls up between two much larger vehicles. Merlin spreads his legs in that direction. He wants whoever it is to hold still, to watch. Don't play the teasing game of pretending to talk to Arthur, only to end up with their faces pressed against the glass, their cocks out and begging to get inside.

Merlin ran his right hand up and down his thighs, while his left took turns twisting his nipples. Two more men circle the truck. Merlin lays flat on his back then raises his knees up spreading his legs as far apart as they can go. He lifts his hips, clenching the muscles of his ass. He can hear the muffled sounds outside increase. Most approach silently, focus on him, now half a dozen men and a woman.

Merlin places a finger tip to the wetness gathering at the end of his cock. He swirls it around the leaking opening then paints his lips with it like fine gloss. Merlin closes his eyes and hums out a little moan, before rolling over on the expensive mattress. When he opens his eyes again he sees Arthur at one of the windows, a satisfied look of pride and lust rolling off of him. Merlin licks his lips, tasting himself and then stretches out like a lazy cat. He's on all fours, his chest almost touches the smooth bedding. His ass is up and open. Some shift their positions outside to get a better view. Others know to be patient, because Merlin wants all twelve of them coming.

Merlin nods towards an older gentleman with a rough looking beard. He's one of the patient ones. They've seen him before, don't know his name, but Arthur pre-approved this part of today's show. Merlin squeezes and stretches his asshole a few more times while pumping his cock. Then spins in the direction of the bearded man. He has dirty blond hair and now Arthur standing right next to him. Key in hand, Arthur opens the huge side window and lets the man reach in to touch Merlin's fluttering hole.

Arthur hands the man some lube, "Fuck him with two fingers." 

With the outside sounds now perfectly clear, the woman whimpers just loud enough to be heard above the increased speed of multiple men jacking off.

Merlin moans out a "Please." He knows he's begging Arthur to get the man to fuck him already, but the man takes it as words directed towards him. Two calloused fingers press in hard and Merlin rocks back on them opening his mouth imagining Arthur's cock buried deep down his throat. Merlin teases with his lips and tongue like he's actually giving Arthur a blow job. A few of the unfiltered moans around him get breathy and loud. 

"That's it. Make them all come Merlin. Make them come for you." Arthur encourages. "You like having this man's hands inside you don't you. I bet you want all of them to get a turn. Each one of them to stick their fingers deep inside. Let each one feel how tight you are, and yet how well you take it."

Merlin fucked himself on those two fingers again rolling his hips to hit his prostate. He pulled on his own cock again. "Wanna suck you off. Let me suck the come from your dick. I swear I'll drink it all down." Merlin begged again.

A louder grunt followed by a few relieved sighs. The man's fingers still to a barely there quiver as he calls for god to help him, but the only thing that he gets in return is the sound of the woman moaning out her pleasure. 

Merlin smiles when those upfront an temporarily satisfied, shift to let in the next batch waiting.

**25.**

Merlin woke up to the feeling of Arthur slowly tracing his fingers down his arm.

“Merlin, are you awake?” Arthur whispered.

“Barely,” Merlin mumbled, his eyes remaining closed. He was still mostly asleep really, enjoying the comfort of Arthur’s body warmth as they lay there facing each other, their legs tangled together.

(They’d never been much good at sleeping apart, their bodies instead twining together. It made getting out of bed a pain every morning, neither able to tell which limb was their own, but Merlin wouldn’t change it for anything.)

Merlin was tempted to fall back asleep just like that, but Arthur wouldn’t have woken him up for no reason, and when the silence had dragged on for too long, he spoke again. “What is it?”

“Can you understand the song of the birds?”

Merlin took back his previous statement. “You really woke me up for this?” he groaned. Arthur was always far too curious about the intricacies of his magic.

He could sense Arthur hesitate, could imagine the way Arthur bit at his bottom lip even with his eyes closed. “Never mind. It was ridiculous, I know.”

Merlin hummed. “I can,” he finally answered. “What brought this on?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Merlin complained.

“You love me.”

“Decidedly less right now.”

“Oh _really_?” Arthur practically purred, moving his knee up from where it was between Merlin’s legs and nudging against Merlin’s cock. 

Merlin’s eyes flew open; he was definitely awake now. He couldn’t see anything in the dark yet, but he just _knew_ Arthur had a smug smile on his face. Never had Merlin been more glad that they both slept naked. “Oh, I see,” he said, keeping his tone casual as his eyes slowly adjusted. “You just want sex. No wonder you woke me up.” 

“I would never!” Arthur said, sounding offended. “...the possibility of sex was mostly a bonus.”

The insistent knee still nudging at him, however, told a different story. Not that Merlin _really_ minded, as he reached out to find Arthur’s cock in the dark, and laughing when he found it already straining.

Merlin gave it a perfunctory stroke, enjoying the way Arthur’s entire body shuddered in pleasure and the knee against his cock pressed against it just that little bit harder.

“Just this,” Merlin murmured. “I can’t be fucked to go digging for the lube right now.”

He relished Arthur’s little sigh as Merlin continued stroking his cock. “That’s fine.”

It continued on like that until Arthur finally came with a quiet groan, rubbing up against Merlin with a slightly increased pace. It was enough to tumble Merlin over the edge as well, feeling boneless as he came down from his orgasm.

They wiped their hands clean on the sheets that would have to be cleaned later, but that wasn’t very important right then.

“So, can you sleep now?”

“Mm, yeah,” Arthur slurred, dropping his head against Merlin’s shoulder. “G’night.”

He drifted off quickly after that, and Merlin took in his form with a small smile before he pressed a gentle kiss against Arthur’s hair. “Good night,” he said softly, closing his eyes and letting sleep claim him once more.


	6. Group B (no warnings)

**26.**

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Merlin looked down at the virtual reality helmet in his hands and at the soft-looking pod where his body would be while his mind was somewhere else. And then he looked at Arthur, in the pod next to his, helmet still in place because if they removed it before he woke, he would die.

"It's been two weeks," Merlin said. "He wasn't supposed to be in there for more than two _hours_."

Gwen nodded. "Bring him back," she said, and he slipped the helmet over his head.

*

He woke with a gasp and stared up at a vivid blue sky for several minutes, trying to swallow back the bile rising in this throat. When his stomach finally settled, Merlin stood up and took in his surroundings. In front of him was a forest, dark and forbidding, and behind him was nothing but empty whiteness.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Arthur," Merlin said, and headed into the forest.

*

He found the cabin a couple of miles in. It looked like it could collapse at any moment, but Merlin opened the door to look inside anyway. It was filled with crates and weapons and shelves of what looked like chemicals and possibly potions.

In a corner was a cot, and on the cot lay Arthur. Asleep.

Merlin's stomach clenched, his heart dropping to his feet. Sleeping in a VR world wasn't something that was supposed to happen. 

Arthur looked peaceful, his breathing deep and even, and one hand was curled around something on his chest. Merlin scowled and picked Arthur's hand up, prying his fingers away from a small green bottle. There was no label, but when Merlin brought it up, the smell was instantly recognizable to him.

"A _sleeping potion_?" Merlin asked the unconscious Arthur, incredulous.

Dropping the bottle on a nearby crate, Merlin sat by Arthur's hip and leaned over him, pressing their mouths together. He had laughed in disbelief the first time Gaius had told him how to wake someone from a sleeping potion, but had only gotten a flat look in response.

Arthur gasped against his mouth and Merlin pulled back, watching as his eyes fluttered open. They were hazy with sleep, the potion still clinging to his consciousness, but when he saw Merlin above him he smiled.

"Merlin," Arthur murmured, and reached up to wrap his hand around the back of Merlin's neck.

He pulled him down into another kiss, and Merlin hummed, licking against Arthur's lips and into his mouth. They kissed lazily, until Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's neck, arching his back.

"Arthur, come on," Merlin said against his mouth, laughing softly. "You've been asleep for two weeks."

"That explains why I'm hard as a rock," Arthur said, sounding slightly more awake.

Merlin shook his head fondly and sat back, reaching for Arthur's belt and the button on his trousers. "God, you had me terrified, you absolute prat. What possessed you to take a sleeping potion in VR?"

"Mmm, don't remember." 

Arthur groaned as Merlin's hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed gently. His answer worried Merlin, but he had missed Arthur so much, and his own cock was starting to grow hard. He pulled his hand away long enough to spit into it, and then began to stroke Arthur, hard and fast.

" _Fuck_ ," Arthur gasped, hips hitching up into Merlin's grip.

Merlin grinned and focused on his hand around Arthur's cock, watching as he moved over it, his fingers long and pale against Arthur's flushed girth. Arthur groaned loudly, one hand twisted in the sheets and the other clenching at Merlin's thigh. Pre-come began to bead at the tip, and Merlin leaned down to lick it away, dipping his tongue into the slit.

Arthur let out a string of curses and came, the hot liquid coating Merlin's fingers. Merlin bit down on his bottom lip, his own cock now straining at the front of his jeans, and wiped his hand on Arthur's t-shirt.

"That's for scaring me."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face belied his irritation. He sat up and pulled Merlin into another deep kiss, reaching for the fly on Merlin's pants.

"Let's take care of you, and then figure out what the hell is going on," Arthur said, and sucked a mark just under Merlin's jaw.

Merlin groaned, burying his clean hand in Arthur's hair to hold him in place. "That's the best idea you've had in two weeks."

**27.**

Balinor has been gone these three years past, nearly four, but Hunith has yet to invite another man into her bed.

She has no need to.

When Merlin is tucked snug away in the cradle she'd built out of the old coop, when the fire is banked and the door shut against the night winds off the marsh, Hunith wraps herself in a blanket on the sturdy bed that was just a little too snug for two to sleep and closes her eyes. She does her best not to listen to the night: the dark is too big, too loud with secrets, too likely to reach spindly fingers into the thatch of her roof and pluck something else from her fragile hold. The blanket scratches, the mice rustle in the corners, Merlin breathes and smacks his mouth in sleep. She lets these small, familiar noises soothe her, ease the strain in her back from washing and the burns on her fingers from the pot, and sleep steals in like an old friend, rocking her easy and warm out of the world and into the next.

He waits for her on the other side, as he always does. He waits with a tiny smile under his beard and outstretched arms, folds her against his chest; he smells just the same, like new grass and old smoke. His voice is the same, too.

“I've missed you,” he says, and she can feel the rasp in the words through his chest.

 _You left me_ and _why_ and a hundred other words she might say hang heavy in her, but those are all words for the waking world; they have no place here, now, in sleep—here everything is softer, blurred out, overlaid with the gentle burr of bees and the smell of sunshine on heather. 

She doesn't answer him, only fists her hands in his thin shirt and pulls him to her. The kiss is a comfort at first, reassurance after the long day spent alone and weary, but it doesn't stay so for long. They both know their time runs short; it always has. His hands are big on her shoulders, peeling her shift down; he lowers his head to run his lips sweet across her breasts as her fingers close in his hair. She pushes him further, to his knees, and he goes willingly, laughing; his grin flashes up at her, wide and white while she cards her fingers back, curling her fingers around his ears while he curls his tongue up—up—up—to the hidden spots he knows as well as the angles of her face.

Her legs weaken under his attentions, and he catches her easily when she lets herself collapse; she pulls him with her, catching at his elbows until they go rolling over together, laughing, their knees and laughter tangling together until they come to rest. He kisses her again; she lets him, pushing at his shoulder until she can wrap a knee over his hip and roll him once more—until she has him underneath her, the length of his cock sliding close against her until she shivers. 

“I've missed you,” he says again, catching her hand with one of his, raising his other to brush her hair from her face. “Every day.” 

_Come home_ , she doesn't say. _Come back to me_.

She puts two fingers against his lips, instead, and rises up until he slips inside her. They gasp, together: every time it catches them by surprise, as if in the day between they had forgotten what this felt like, slick and intimate and utterly unlike anything—anyone—else. She rides him slowly, her head thrown back, his hands around her hips, his fingers sliding down her thighs and across her belly, and they move like the current of a river, rushing forward until they fall over a mountain into the ebbing calm of a deep rock pool: secret, hidden, safe.

 **28.**  
 **Warning:** Sexualized ageplay/ de-aging, Daddy/boy themes

'I'm gonna go get ready for bed,' Merlin says, pushing his chair back from the table, pausing to kiss his boyfriend's cheek on the way out. 

It's Arthur's turn to do dishes so he sets to work clearing up. The sound of the tub filling filters down from upstairs and Arthur feels himself get hot in a way that has nothing to do with the water in the kitchen sink.

 _He's in the guest bedroom,_ Arthur thinks, pausing to tuck his rapidly filling cock up into the waistband of his sweatpants. When he's halfway done, Arthur hears Merlin's tentative footsteps padding out into the hall.

'Daddy...'

The tone of Merlin's voice, soft and sweet, makes Arthur's cock throb. Putting down the plate he's washing, Arthur walks out of the kitchen. Merlin is standing on the landing, his bathrobe clinging to his body damply. It's powder blue and fluffy, dotted with tiny wizard hats, and Merlin has the hood up over his head. It seems to drown him whole, his bare feet barely poking out from under the hem.

'Yes, Merlin,' Arthur says, his voice slipping easily into a smooth authoritative tone, subtly telling Merlin that this is OK. That they can do this tonight.

This thing between them is new. Not the relationship but _this_. This thing that happens whenever Merlin gets small and soft and looks so innocent that Arthur barely knows what to do with himself.

'I need help,' Merlin replies, his tone bordering on a whine. He rubs his eyes with his fists, yawning widely, and Arthur's heart melts in his chest. Mounting the stairs, he begins to climb. Merlin doesn't wait for him, scurrying back into the guest room, _the nursery_ , and Arthur hears the splash of him climbing back into the tub.

Entering the room, Arthur takes note of Merlin's pajamas set out on the bed, a red onesie with dragons dancing across the fabric. The sound of Merlin's humming filters through the bathroom door, his way of reminding Arthur that he is waiting. Smiling, Arthur slowly removes his shirt and places it on the bed beside Merlin's onesie where it won't get wet. 

' _Daddy!_ '

His boy is impatient tonight. _'That won't do,'_ Arthur thinks, pausing to retrieve the hairbrush from the side table, placing it next to the onesie.

The sight of Merlin in the tub, dark hair curling damply around his wonderful ears, makes Arthur smile. Merlin is piling bubbles on top of his own head and grins when he catches sight of Arthur in the doorway. Kneeling by the side of the tub, Arthur strokes his thumb across Merlin's brow, brushing away some errant bubbles.

'What did you need help with, baby,' Arthur asks, his face betraying nothing when Merlin blushes deeply. 

'It's bedtime but I'm not sleepy all the way yet,' Merlin says, scooting closer and burying his face in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur knows what Merlin is asking for but he wants to make Merlin squirm some more. Sitting back on his heels, Arthur holds Merlin away from him gently, waiting until his boy's eyes meet his own. He holds Merlin's gaze, his expression expectant but patient.

'Daddy, _please_ ,' Merlin whines, pressing against Arthur's hold. He struggling not to look away, blushing furiously. Arthur wants to devour him.

Releasing Merlin's shoulder, Arthur's left hand slips beneath the warm soapy water. Merlin is hot in his grip and Arthur grips him tightly, setting a firm steady rhythm. When his other hand slips down to thumb Merlin's nipple, Merlin finally breaks. He keens softly and shudders lightly before going still. Arthur feels the slick against his palm and keeps stroking until Merlin starts to twitch and mewl, oversensitive and exhausted. Merlin is still trembling when Arthur lifts him out of the tub. He wraps his arms around Arthur's neck limply, snuggling in close.

'Don't fall asleep yet, sweetheart,' Arthur says softly, carrying Merlin into the bedroom and placing him on the bed, but Merlin is already asleep. Arthur quickly grabs a towel from the bathroom, drying Merlin off gently and maneuvering him into his onesie. When Arthur strips off and lies down beside him, Merlin sighs softly.

'Love you, Daddy,' he murmurs, curling into Arthur's chest. Arthur kisses his damp head softly and pulls the duvet over them, rubbing Merlin's back until he drifts off too.

**29.**

The first time it happened, it was an accident. Merlin got the wrong bowl of ice cream and was out like a light, snoring blissfully away. See, Arthur has insomnia; always has. The past few years he’s been taking some heavy duty sleeping pills on the nights he really needs the rest. And since he absolutely _hates_ the way the stupid things taste, he goes ahead and grinds them up in his ice cream to make them a bit easier to take.

It just so happened that night, he and Merlin were having the exact same ice cream in the same bowls and Merlin simply got them switched. Arthur hadn’t even notice until Merlin’s scruffy head was on his shoulder drooling away.

Really, it should be disturbing how fast his cock got hard at the sight of Merlin all vulnerable and asleep. In fact, it kind of was disturbing. That didn’t stop Arthur putting Merlin’s limp body to bed and then jerking off right next to him. Even more disturbing was the fact that it only took half a dozen strokes before he was spilling over his hand and onto the sheets next to Merlin’s bare hip. Turns out, he didn’t even need the pills to get to sleep that night.

+++

The second time, it Arthur who mixes the ice cream bowls up. He feels skeezy and downright prattish for doing it, but he can’t deny that the results have him going from zero to leaking in about three seconds flat. He even takes it one step further this time; straddling Merlin and pushing his boyfriend’s t-shirt up so he can grind out his orgasm on to Merlin’s belly and chest. He marvels at the lack of response from Merlin, the looseness in his body. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the biggest turn on to date.

+++

After the third time had led to Arthur’s dick almost _inside_ the helpless, unconscious Merlin, he finally got the balls to admit everything to his boyfriend. Arthur freaked out for a whole two days. How the hell were you supposed to tell someone that you were drugging them so you could molest them in their sleep? Someone who trusted you implicitly, at that? 

In the end Arthur went with the bare naked truth. He told Merlin about the first time, how it’d been an accident. He told him about after that he just wanted that _feeling_ again, that sucker punch feeling he got every time he saw Merlin lying there completely out of it. 

And Merlin, well Merlin was really calm about it actually. Abnormally calm. In fact, he was so calm that Arthur had to prompt him to say something when Arthur had finished his confession.

“Merlin?”

Merlin blinked, eyes focusing on Arthur from the distant stare he’d had a moment ago. “Hm?”

“Are you going to say anything? Berate me for taking advantage? Castrate me for molesting you without your permission? Take me to court for drugging you? What?”

Then Merlin did the most unexpected thing. He laughed. He threw his head back and laughed. 

“Arthur,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, “I knew what was happening all along. I never stopped you did I?”

“What?!” Arthur’s face twisted incredulously. “What do you mean you knew about the whole time?”

Merlin gave him a look that one would give a particularly slow child. “I think I know the feeling of my own boyfriend’s come dried to my skin the morning after. And that ice cream doesn’t cover up the disgusting taste of your pills as much as you like to think it does, love.”

“…Oh.”

Merlin chuckled and reached out to him. Arthur went quite willingly to settle against Merlin’s chest and bury his face in Merlin’s neck, cheeks heating from embarrassment. It wasn’t going to be easy looking Merlin in the eye from now on, knowing that Merlin knew about Arthur’s apparent kink for sleep sex. But Merlin didn’t heckle him or make fun of him. He just carded one hand through the golden mop on Arthur’s head and affectionately called him “Eejit” before dragging them both back to the bedroom and proving that awake, panting-for-it Merlin was just as much of a turn on as asleep Merlin was.

**30.**

Merlin woke from a boom of thunder rolling over the citadel. The storm raging outside, charged the atmosphere with an electricity that made the very space Merlin was in, hum as if it air were alive. His skin tingled, every nerve awake, much like how he felt when his magic was active. 

Rolling onto his back, Merlin stared at the at the black ceiling watching the lighting dance across the stone. He had already kicked his blanket off to the floor, preferring to feel as close to nothing on his skin as possible. Drumming his fingers on his bare stomach, to a tune played out by the fat drops of rain hitting the stone walls, Merlin felt more restless as time crawled on. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this rate.

It was hard to guess the time with the turbulent storm covering the stars and moon, two celestial night beings used to gage time, but if he had to guess it would be hours before anyone woke, leaving him awake, alone and bothered.

His drumming fingers progressed into strokes on his skin, as Merlin let his mind wander, about random things. The days events, Arthur being a prat, the intense training with the knights Arthur made him participate in. 

Today had been particularly hot and muggy, as nature prepared for the summer storm approaching Camelot. Arthur, however, thought it was perfect timing to work his Knights in their drills, until the heat and the sweat had the field fill with damp, shirtless, Knights, who Merlin was in charge of keeping hydrated. 

It was like a scene that had played numerous time behind Merlin’s eyelids, only now he had details that were never in his daydreaming. 

Merlin’s strokes got bolder, as Merlin remember the salty smell of Leon’s sweat, as he toweled off during a brief respite. Thinking of the way Elyan’s adam’s apple bobbed, as he drank cup fulls of water, caused Merlin’s breath to hitch and hips to wiggle. Percy’s mussels, rolling under his skin like wave on the ocean, had Merlin gripping his hardened cock. But, thinking of Gwaine always cause Merlin to stroke his hand along his shaft in a quickened pace. 

Sure envisioning what Elyan throat would feel like wrapped around Merlin’s cock, or what Percival’s body would feel like under Merlin’s touch, could fulfill Merlin’s need any day, it was Gwaine, being damned Gwaine, that got Merlin to climax faster.

Gwaine and his flirtatious ways. His lude comments and brash stories, pulled at Merlin’s fantasies. The idea that the man had the knowledge to play Merlin’s body like a fiddle, had Merlin pulling at his cock with a sharp slap of flesh. 

Merlin could picture how Gwaine’s overused mouth will be, when put to a use, other that talking. How his sword calloused hands will feel on Merlin, working him open like many of his bragged about conquests.   
The idea played so many times in Merlin’s head, that he entertained the notion, on more than one occasion, to leave his bed and go to Gwaine, asking him to make his thoughts become reality. To finally know what being touched by another’s hand would feel like. 

But, Merlin never left his bed. Choosing to never cause an action that could damage his friendship. Instead he’d lie in bed, playing at the fantasies, until he came with the name of a knight clinched in his teeth. 

**31.**

Merlin woke with a gasp when he heard something knocking against his window. He warily rubbed his eyes and went over, slowly drawing the curtains back. 

 

He quickly unhooked the latch, dragging it open. “Arthur?! What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!” 

 

Arthur laughed and swung himself inside through the window, causing Merlin to stumble backwards too. They both landed on a heap on the floor and Merlin yelped when Arthur’s weight landed on his arm and leg. “Ow what the bloody--”

 

A hand clamped down on his mouth and Merlin stared at Arthur with wide eyes. “Slumber party. You, me, Morgana and Gwen-- grab your shit, we’re meeting back at my place in fifteen!” 

***

Merlin was going to have the worst hangover of his life the next morning. 

 

The four of them had been doing body shots off of Morgana and Arthur and were now piled under a blanket fort in Arthur’s massive media room, watching some stupid movie and drinking even more, scrounging through the snacks in Arthur’s house. Merlin looked around himself in a moment of fuzzy awareness, seeing Gwen basically curled up in on top of Morgana, her feet in Arthur’s lap, while Arthur was leaning against Merlin and had his arm looped through Morgana’s. 

 

Merlin had no idea what was going on between the four of them lately. They had always been friends, since elementary school in fact, and although they had their ups and downs, they were always together, the four of them. Around a year or so ago, Arthur and Gwen had tried dating, but broke it off when they realized they were better off as friends, and Morgana and Merlin took each other’s virginities in her mother’s lake house attic while their friends were swimming. Arthur, just last week, had pushed Merlin against the wall and snogged the life out of him and they hadn’t talked about it since, Arthur just kept _smirking_ at him. 

 

Merlin chalked it up to hormones and puberty and... stuff. They were all 17, about to have their last year of schooling and who knew where they’d end up? This summer they had made a pact to spend as much time together as they could and apparently that had resulted in this rather physical slumber party. 

 

“So how was the kiss then, Merlin?” 

 

Merlin startled and thought someone was reading his thoughts or something, with the way the three of his friends were suddenly staring at him and not the telly screen. “Uh-- wha?”

 

“Did you like it? Did he bite? He never bit me,” Gwen laughed, nudging Arthur, who was blushing slightly. 

 

“He tried to bite me, but I just bit him back so hard he cried.” Morgana smirked.

 

“I DID NOT CRY!” Arthur burst out. 

 

“Wait-- what?” Merlin tried to clear his head and listen. “How-- who?”

 

“Arthur snogged you right? You did, right? Or were you just bragging?!” Gwen said, sitting up and shifting in Morgana’s lap. Merlin didn’t miss the way Morgana put her hand between Gwen’s legs and he wondered what the fuck was going on. 

 

“I did! Merlin, tell them we snogged!” Arthur said quickly, face flushing.

 

“Uh, yeah-- we, um, well he snogged me, I wasn’t exactly the most active participant considering he somewhat attacked me--”

 

“Don’t say it like that, you enjoyed it!” Arthur turned and stared at Merlin closely. “You did right?”

 

Merlin was quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah... Yeah, I did.”

 

“See?!” Arthur grinned triumphantly, leaning over and kissing Merlin’s cheek excitedly. Merlin blushed again. Was this the alcohol or-- oh whatever, he was going to enjoy this night regardless of whatever was going on. 

 

The rest of the night became slightly hazy, as Gwen and Morgana started to snog and Arthur pulled Merlin forward, making him straddle his lap. Gwen’s fingers ended up in Merlin’s hair as Arthur bent down and sucked his cock and holy hell _when and where had he learned how to do that?!_ Morgana was bringing Gwen off with her fingers and dirty words that Merlin had never ever imagined her saying with her posh accent. 

 

The alcohol drenched Merlin’s veins and calmed his nerves-- they were best friends, the four of them would always be best friends, no matter where they went to uni, no matter what they got up to in slumber parties.

**32.**

They’re both alphas, and it shouldn’t be this good. In public, Merlin will swallow his pride and bow his head, not just like a serving boy, but as though he recognises Arthur as the better alpha. In private, Arthur will let Merlin fuck him like they’re not breaking every fucking rule, like it makes any kind of sense.

They’re both alphas and none of it matters at all because Merlin’s just a servant. That’s the only way he can explain it.

They always do it in the privacy of Arthur’s bed, with the drapes drawn halfway closed. Sometimes, Arthur will straddle Merlin; will hold the high ground while he sinks down on Merlin’s cock, and Merlin remembers the first time, remembers every time, how beautiful Arthur is and how Merlin just can’t get enough breath watching him like this, ends up panting open-mouthed even as he tries so hard not to touch, not to hold down Arthur’s thighs until he is exactly where Merlin wants him. Arthur never fails to mock him for it as they dress, compares him to a dog, and looks a little less ashamed of what they do, after.

Other times, they fight. They fight until Arthur has proven himself, has pinned and subjugated Merlin, and Merlin knows he’ll wake up to too many bruises all over his body, but it doesn’t matter because Arthur will then lie back. He’ll let Merlin cover him and rub his hands over the sensitive insides of Arthur’s thighs where they’re spread wide, and the air will grow thin in Merlin’s chest even as he tries to breathe Arthur in. He’ll let Merlin stroke the oil into him; he’ll close his eyes and allow himself the faintest grunt, and then again as Merlin mounts him, and it shouldn’t send such a thrill down Merlin’s spine, but it does.

When they sleep, after, Arthur will let Merlin lie on top of him, Arthur’s throat bared right before him and Merlin _wants_ , so bad. He wants to bite, to mark, but he buries his nose there instead and Arthur’s an alpha; Merlin doesn’t understand how he can smell so good. 

In the morning, they make sure to wash up, though they can’t rub each other’s scents from their skin completely. But they are master and servant, and that explains enough. What it doesn’t quite explain is Merlin’s need to keep Arthur safe, to go above and beyond, and the way Arthur’s eyes cut to his before inquiring if Merlin’s little bottom is sore in the middle of a hunt, or the way their words will turn from cutting to understanding and back in the time it takes for Gwaine to finish an apple. 

It’s when Merlin’s exhausted and more than half-asleep that he forgets not to want Arthur too much, and his knot sometimes forms. It would be fascinating if it weren’t so worrisome; if it didn’t have him rubbing desperately against the mattress in search of something he can’t have, with Arthur out of reach beside him. 

The first time Arthur catches him at it after waking up in the middle of the night, he pulls Merlin on top of himself irritably, as though insulted that Merlin should prefer the mattress. They both freeze moments later. Merlin dresses and leaves, doesn’t look back, feels too hopeless to be embarrassed.

The first time Arthur takes Merlin’s knot, he lets himself sink down onto Merlin’s lap, and Merlin would be wide-eyed with disbelief if he weren’t so busy moaning. His body feels like it might be on fire, and his head tips back when his knot slips inside, and ‘Oh, God, oh, God, oh _God_ ’. He might just be dying. Arthur’s thighs slide stickily over his and then Arthur’s nose brushes his throat, followed by his teeth just before he bites down. It seems to last forever and never long enough, his body wrapped in too much pleasurepainpleasure, and then he’s coming; when he looks up, Arthur’s eyes are slits, lazy and self-satisfied, and there’s too much colour in his cheeks as he slowly strokes himself.

‘Still completely useless, then,’ Arthur says later, sighing in a very put upon way, when it turns out they can’t move much. 

‘Sorry,’ says Merlin, unconvincingly. Arthur grumbles and goes to sleep sitting upright, surrounded by Merlin’s arms. 

The next day, Arthur smells too much of Merlin, but no one questions it. Merlin thinks maybe being a servant isn’t too bad after all, especially when Arthur drags him to bed straight after lunch.

**33.**

“Oh… ohhh.” 

Merlin’s in the midst of a fever dream before he startles awake, blearily aware of the warm, soft suction on his cock.

“ _Arthur_ —?” 

—Was supposed to be resting in Avalon, only to return when the world was in peril, so why is he at Merlin’s crotch, looking like he’d been in the midst of giving Merlin a blowjob?

“Hello,” Arthur says, pulling off with a wet _pop_. He grins, wipes his mouth with a hand. “I thought it’d make a nice greeting.”

“Why are you here? And why are you all…” Merlin pauses to make a floppy hand motion, “…see-through?” He’s pretty confused. 

“I thought you’d be happier to see me, Merlin.” Arthur sounds grumpy. 

“I am.” Merlin points at his erection, then rubs at his eyes. “I just want to understand. And I think this calls for coffee.”

“Can’t we finish this first?”

“…Okay.”

***

Turns out, Arthur’s very enthusiastic at this whole “greeting” business. He’s fisting the base of Merlin’s cock with a spit-slick hand, his mouth moving up and down the tip and his _tongue_ , god, his tongue is spearing the slit of his cock and Merlin hears himself emit a whimper.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Arthur, _fuuuuck_ ,” and he’s coming, spurting into Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur tries to swallow, bless him, but he chokes and coughs, spluttering as he spits to the side. 

“…harder than she made it sound,” he mutters.

“What? Who?” Merlin demands, but his voice comes out breathy.

“Freya.” The grumpy tone is back. “Said I had to take an offering from you for seven nights before Avalon would release me.”

“And you figured that waking me up by sucking my brains out of my cock was the best way?”

“She made a thinly-veiled suggestion.”

“God.” 

They say time changes people. Merlin should know, but he feels vaguely horrified at the difference between the sweet, delicate Freya of his remembrance and this Freya who gives the Once and Future King _blowjob advice_.

“I think I need that coffee now.”

***

The two consecutive nights are much the same. Merlin wakes up, sleep-muzzy, in the middle of a blowjob from Arthur—it’s messy and without much finesse, but with a sheer determination that is pure Arthur.

There’s really nothing hotter than seeing Arthur’s blonde head bobbing up and down, his cheeks hollowing around Merlin’s cock and his lips, pink and lush and _sticky_.

Merlin slips his fingers into Arthur’s hair, softly gripping in silent encouragement. The other hand slides to his cheek which is filled with his cock, presses lightly. Arthur looks up through his fringe, blue eyes startling, his mouth still stretched wide around it; that split-second image overwhelms Merlin, wringing a throaty gasp as he starts to come. 

This time, Arthur swallows it down, pink tongue darting out to lick at the come that’s leaked out.

“How are you so good at this?” Merlin asks, plaintive, while Arthur makes his way beside him and steals a pillow.

“A warrior has to adapt to any situation he faces.”

“And how many nights are left?” 

Arthur counts on his fingers. “Four.”

“Four more before you come back for good?”

“Four more before I get saddled with you _again_ , Merlin. For good,” Arthur confirms, and Merlin takes it as a promise.

“I’ve missed you, you know.” He’s sleepy and sated, and not responsible for whatever comes out of his mouth.

“Me too.”

It’s been more than a thousand years. He can wait a little longer.

**34.**

DREAMS

Golden eyes snap closed.

Dreams. Entrancing us from beneath our subconscious. Enchanting us with sparkling scenery painted across our imagination in wondrous colours. We willingly fall into their open arms, in blissful ignorance of the waking world around us.

It starts with a whisper; filled with longing, tempting your deepest secrets out from the forgotten corners of your mind. Haunting you; ghosts of images teasing your senses. Exhilarating exhaustion caresses you and you give in.

Merlin looked forward to his dreams and tonight was no different. Clumsily collapsing in his comfortable cot, Merlin stretched with feline grace. A thick vale of ebony lashes falls; the final curtain call of the day, and Merlin falls into a deep slumber.

Darkness descends upon his sleeping form, drowning the day in endless night. Merlin fluttered his eyes open and was enveloped with warm light.

A soft sound washed upon his ears and a chill crawled up his spine. As he sat up he found himself cast upon a shore. His eyes wandered around him and came to rest upon sun-kissed, tanned skin. Next to him lay Arthur, golden crown of hair mussed and trailing over his closed eyes.

Softly he moved towards him and reached out to touch the man that tempted his heart and body so. Arthur stirred as Merlin's delicate fingers traced across his cheek. "Merlin? Where are we?"

"I... I don't know, but... Arthur... I, I want..." Merlin stuttered as his hand fell from his prince's soft cheek. 

Arthur took Merlin's hand in his own and returned it to its spot, nuzzling his wrist where he left a soft swift kiss, no more than a brush of his lips. "You want what, Merlin?"

"You." He spoke without even thinking, the word just fell from his parted lips. 

Arthur barely paused before he reached out entangling his fingertips in Merlin's ebony crown, bringing their lips together. "Me, too... wanted you for so long."

Merlin's smile shone brighter than the sun and as heated breath ghosted over searching lips, finally they melted into the most tender of kisses, a nervous caress of mouths and curious flick of tongues. They moved together, pressing their shapely bodies against one another, seeking out each touch like it was water in a desert.

"Please..." Merlin begged and in a moment Arthur was upon him. Merlin spread his legs and his prince sank between them. They kissed and touched till Arthur seamlessly began to press his fingers into his lover, stretching him till Merlin was crying out on the brink of insanity and begging for more.

As sudden as the crash of the waves around them Arthur stopped and looked deep into Merlin's eyes. "I love you."

The young warlock didn't have time to respond as he was wrecked when Arthur finally thrust his aching cock into his tight hole. His body bowed and his lips parted in a silent scream, so full and overwhelmed. His own hard erection, trapped between them, pulsed with intense pleasure.

Merlin's nails clawed at Arthur's back and the prince rocked deeper still into his love's beautiful body, showering his neck with open mouthed kisses, biting down, leaving a mark of ownership on his iridescent alabaster skin.

It took no longer than moments before both men freefell into euphoria, calling out the other's name as they came to orgasm together, bombarded with the blissful agony of their own utopian dream.

Arthur cradled Merlin as they came down from their high. He would never let go of him again.

Once more the world was dark. 

Arthur shot, bolt upright in his bed within his chambers. His hands searching for his dream lover, panting and slick with sweat. How sweet the dream that when awoken from changes your life. No more would he stay silent. Tonight Merlin would lay in his arms, not in his dreams.

Golden eyes flashed open.

A slow and resentfully easy smirk grew across rosy lips, stray ringlets of ebony waves fell across a shoulder. Morgana grinned wickedly as her spell completed, began to wither. The things she did for Arthur and Merlin. Perhaps all they needed was a little magic and a dream.

**35.**

It was only a border disturbance. They happened all the time. One of the duties as a knight of Camelot was to serve in the rotating parties that brought order to the skirmishes. Usually they did not end in violence and everyone returned tired, annoyed, but no worse for the wear.

But that didn't stop Merlin from worrying.

It had been five days and four nights since the latest party set out. They should have been back that morning, but the day passed without word from them. Merlin had fallen into his bed exhausted, but sleep remained elusive. 

So, he crept into the knights' quarters, even in the dark he knew his way—down the steps, fourth door on the left. He didn't sleep there often. If anyone knew about their relationship, they looked the other way. The old religion didn't condemn it, but it was not precisely accepted, so they were careful not to be too obvious.

The air in the room was slightly stale, sign enough for Merlin that its tenant had been gone too long. Merlin edged forward until he reached the bed. Instead of finding its usual occupant, the bed linens were cold, but as he crawled up to the pillow, there was a familiar, welcoming scent of sweat and black soap. He let it wash over him. Clutching a handful of the blankets, he rolled over onto his stomach and shut his eyes. For the first time in days, he drifted off.

Hours later, Merlin stirred in his sleep, vaguely aware of a door opening, a faint light behind his eyelids, and then a waft of cold air at his feet.

He felt a tickle at his toes, likely a mouse seeking warmth. But the tickling didn't go away as Merlin gently kicked his foot on reflex. Instead, there was warm air ghosting over his toes and up to his ankle. Merlin shook his foot again, but this time the distinct feeling of fingertips slid up his calves.

Merlin didn’t fully wake as the mattress shifted and the light touch of fingertips grew firmer, rubbing up the back of his thighs. Merlin spread his legs wider, subconsciously making space for the weight crawling onto the bed.

The blankets slipped off his body, but for the first time in four nights, Merlin did not feel cold.

His mind still in the place between dreaming and wakefulness, he felt his sleeping tunic get pushed up his back, exposing his bare skin to the room. The chill that should have been present was taken away by the strong, familiar hands that began to knead his arse cheeks. 

Merlin huffed and pushed his arse back, the responding chuckle resonating in his dream. He learned at a young age that his dreams were more vivid compared to others, but when the wet heat of a tongue lapped between his cheeks, Merlin stirred awake enough to let out a quiet moan. The licking continued, making a path around Merlin's hole and down to the spot behind his balls that drove him absolutely mad. Merlin groaned into his pillow and lifted his hips, shifting his weight to make room for his hardening cock. 

When he shifted, his arse cheeks were greeted with the rough, but welcome feeling of stubble, contrasting the soft, wet tongue that was trying to push inside him. Merlin whimpered into the pillow, on the precipice of waking up.

He scrunched his eyes shut as a slick finger breached him, afraid that were he to fully awaken, the dream would be gone and he would be alone again. Merlin canted his hips trying to pull the finger in deeper. A murmured “greedy” passed through Merlin's ears, but the angle of the finger did change, making Merlin's toes curl. 

Merlin chased the growing pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach. He rutted against the bed linens while the tongue licked sloppily above his bollocks and the finger pumping in and out of him met his rhythm.

The pressure built as he tried to cling to the dream, but it was a losing battle as Merlin's orgasm crashed through him and a flicker of magic burst through him causing the lamp on the table to ignite.

On the wall, Merlin could see the shadows of two men—himself and another.

“M'not dreaming?” Merlin mumbled as a very solid weight pressed against his back.

“No, Merlin.” Gwaine's voice was a whisper in his ear. "I'm home."

**36.**

There’s a monster under Sefa’s bed.

She’s a pretty monster. She’s a big cat, with wings and bright eyes and wicked, sharp teeth. But she’s a monster, and Sefa knows she’s supposed to tell her dad about monsters, so she does.

Dad says there’s no such thing as monsters, disappointed and cold. He tells her to be a brave girl.

Sefa goes to sleep to growling under her bed. It sounds like crying.

###

There’s a girl during the daylight in the monster’s place, and she always looks sad. She’s _is_ Monster, she explains. She’s cursed, dangerous. Sefa doesn’t believe that, though. Her monster has never hurt her, and when she tells Monster that it makes her smile.

But Dad says the girl isn’t real either, when Sefa talks about her, so Sefa doesn’t mention it anymore.

That doesn’t mean Monster goes away.

###

Sefa is twelve, and she can’t sleep without Monster purring beneath her bed. Nobody else plays pretend anymore, or makes tea for imaginary friends. Nobody else still reads fairy tales or wonders how to lift curses, because nobody thinks they’re real. Sefa keeps her belief quiet and doesn’t talk to them much. She’d rather be with Monster anyway.

###

“What’s your name?”

“I can’t say.”

“You should have a name.” All Sefa’s toys, when she was still young enough for toys, had names. Gwen the queen, and Merlin the stuffed rabbit that came with a top hat, names chosen and deliberated over. Monster has always just been herself. It seems wrong. “Why can’t you say?”

“You have to name me. That’s how it works.”

###

Sefa is sixteen before she thinks to ask Monster out from under the bed. “Come up and sleep with me,” she whispers one night, when the growls that are really sobs get too loud.

Monster isn’t tame. When she comes out, she’s like a panther, wings ruffled, teeth bared. Sefa holds her hand out, and Monster flies to her, settling against her side, breath across her neck.

In her dreams, Sefa kisses Monster, kisses her and kisses her until they’re both breathless.

In the morning, she wakes to Monster’s assessing human gaze. “Do you have a name for me yet?” she says, but it feels like she’s asking a different question.

Sefa shakes her head and hates herself for not being good enough to break the curse.

###

She goes away for school, because Dad says she should, but she’s lonely. Her roommate is pretty and a little scary, which should make her like Monster but doesn’t. Sefa studies, and calls Dad once a week, and wishes she could call Monster too. She writes a journal instead, all the things she’d like to say to her, lists of names.

When she comes home, Monster is waiting for her, but Dad isn’t. “Have you named me yet?” Monster asks right away, and Sefa shakes her head. It’s the key to the curse, and she can’t do it, can’t name her Beth or Vivian or something else _wrong_.

Dad comes up the drive, then, and when Sefa finishes greeting him, Monster is gone. She and Dad have a quiet dinner, and the whole time Sefa is thinking of the monster under her bed, and what her name might be.

###

Sefa dreams she’s kissing Monster, that they’re in a summer field and giggling, hands on each other’s faces, breasts, hips. Monster uses her mouth, down between Sefa’s legs, and Sefa clutches at her hair, overwhelmed with the pleasure until she’s come with a cry that isn’t a name. She returns the gesture clumsily in return, wishing to be able to taste so it would feel real, until Monster reaches for her and she goes to whisper in her ear. “Why couldn’t it be the other way? In the stories, you would be human at night, so we could have this.”

Monster holds on tight, so tight Sefa can almost pretend she’ll feel the bruise later, but she doesn’t answer.

“I name you your own name,” she says as fiercely as she can, pretending she’s the brave girl her Dad always wanted. Brave girls can break curses. “I won’t make one up for you, I haven’t the right. The name you can’t say out loud, it’s yours.”

Monster smiles and whispers something in her ear.

###

“Freya,” Sefa murmurs when she wakes, long before dawn. There’s a human hand in hers.

**37.**

Arthur loves mornings.

He rolls over sleepily and feels his arm brush against warm, smooth skin. He smiles into his pillow and lets his arm wrap fully around Merlin’s waist, pulling him back into Arthur’s chest. Merlin, still mostly asleep, just snuffles into his own pillow and then burrows down, his back pressing into Arthur’s chest, hand curling up in Arthur’s and holding on.

Arthur loves mornings. Merlin has never been a morning person, where Arthur is almost always up with the sun, ready to get his day started. But there is always that small moment of time, each morning, that Arthur curls up with Merlin and just breathes. That moment when the sheets are warm from their bodies and the air in the room is cool around them. When it is quiet and lazy. When it’s just them.

And in those early moments, Arthur likes to press his nose against the back of Merlin’s neck and just _breathe_.

Merlin almost always smells like paint and peppermint and something that Arthur thinks is burnt toast. It was a strange combination, but it’s all Merlin, and Arthur loves it. He loves how pliant Merlin is, being manhandled into Arthur’s body and just fitting there like he belongs. Because he does. Merlin always belongs with Arthur.

It’s the mornings that Arthur likes the most. Especially this one.

“Happy birthday,” Arthur mumbles, his nose pressing against the softness of the short hairs at the base of his neck. His voice is a little groggy from sleep, husky. Warm. Arthur feels his body reacting to Merlin being so close to him. He tightens his arm around his waist when he feels Merlin’s hand twitch in his. “I have something for you.”

And it’s a little cliche, Arthur knows. But it doesn’t stop him from pressing his hips forward and letting Merlin feel the way his body is responding to being wrapped up in Merlin. His hard cock slips between Merlin’s naked cheeks, still wet from the night before. Arthur wants to growl in want, but refrains.

Merlin shuffles a little in his arms and then he’s pressing back into Arthur, his hips making a slow roll, and it’s obvious Merlin wants this present first thing in the morning, too. Arthur is more than willing to give it to him.

Arthur doesn’t even bother opening Merlin up. They don’t really have the time and Merlin is already loose, Arthur can feel it. So, with one arm tucked around Merlin, Arthur uses his other hand to guide himself into Merlin. He takes his time pressing inside, makes sure Merlin feels every inch sliding home, because even though they have a limited time to do this, Arthur wants to make it good for his husband.

Merlin mewls into his pillow and _fuck_ , Arthur has to move. Slowly, lazy, he fucks into Merlin and untangles their hands to wrap his palm around Merlin’s hardening cock.

This part of the morning is best, Arthur thinks, and continues to build up the pressure and speed into Merlin’s ass, fucking him open and stroking his dick. And in almost no time at all, with Merlin a little more awake, but mostly still asleep, and Arthur kissing along Merlin’s shoulders and neck, they come together, nearly silent moans falling from their lips and bodies shaking.

Breathing hard, Arthur smiles into Merlin’s skin and whispers again, “Happy birthday, love.” Merlin looks back at him, hair a mess and eyes half mast with sleep and grins.

“The kids will be in soon,” Merlin says and Arthur knows they will.

“Birthday breakfast in bed,” Arthur agrees.

They look at each other for a long moment and then Arthur leans forward to kiss Merlin long, gently and with purpose.

Ten minutes later, they’re cleaned up, somewhat dressed and sitting in bed. Six tiny feet can be heard coming down the hall with whispered, “Shhhh, don’t wake Dad and Daddy yet!” Arthur looks over at Merlin and smiles to himself when his eyes get wide and surprised when the kids come in, carrying a tray between the three of them.

Arthur loves mornings.

**38.**

The candle on the nightstand and outside light signaled that it was a couple hours past dawn. He couldn’t see the sky from his bed, but it felt like the sort of day that needed to be rainy. Duty and responsibility demanded his attention but his head throbbed from too much drink the night prior and it was an unseasonably cool morning. Merlin was sleepy-warm and curled into him and their blanket was the perfect barrier against the chill.

Just a few minutes more.

When he next opened his eyes it was late morning and Merlin was reclined against the headboard reading. The constant tapping against the windowpane confirmed his earlier wish for rain and Arthur stretched, savoring the pull and strain of his muscles. The older he got, the better it felt. As if reading his mind, Merlin looked down at him, his eyebrow raised, and Arthur ignored him. 

He grabbed the scroll out of Merlin’s hands and tossed it into the abyss of the room while rolling on top of Merlin and pinning him to the mattress. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late,” he chastised, without any real heat or annoyance. It was rote by this point. 

“You’re prettier when you’re unconscious,” Merlin responded, his grin cheeky. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You are truly terrible at your job.” Arthur whispered into his ear, biting the lobe and kissing the underside of Merlin’s jaw. It was his favorite spot on Merlin’s body, and he couldn’t resist a quick salty-scratchy lick-kiss against the cut of his jaw. “I don’t know how I’ve managed to tolerate you this long.” 

Merlin’s chest rumbled with a snort and Arthur rolled his hips down against him. “I can think of a reason or twenty.” Merlin's hands slid up his back, their rough calluses a wonderful drag against his skin. He was still flush with his first full night’s rest in over a month and Merlin’s hands - his long, spindly fingers - brushed up his spine like he’d brush the flat of a sword. 

“Two reasons at the very most.” Arthur closed his eyes when those fingers reached the knob of his spine and pushed against the knots there. Merlin kneaded and rubbed at Arthur’s back without any real intent and Arthur was suddenly thunderstruck. Struck with lightning and cracked open with the realization that he _loved_ Merlin. Loved him in the loud, overwhelming battle of life and loved him in the quite, secret moments away from it all. Loved his stupid, too-large grin that made him look simple and loved the flash of his eyes when he was in the middle of an angry strop. 

An errant thought of what life would be like without his stupid, floppy-eared servant was like a knife to the heart and Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and buried his nose in the downy soft hair at his neck. “Stay,” he whispered. A stupid, indolent, barely heard plea, but a plea all the same.

Merlin’s fingers stilled and he shifted to cup Arthur’s jaw and draw him down into a kiss. It was a flutter-brush of lips, petal soft and without any heat, but Arthur pulled the promise from it. “Don’t be an idiot.” Merlin’s voice was as hushed as his own plea, but gentle and full of affection. 

“Just making sure you weren’t thinking of seeking other employment options.” Looking at Merlin was too bright, too much, and Arthur was certain that if he looked a second longer, Merlin would see every secret inside of him. 

“I’m _always_ seeking other employment options, but for some reason no one else is willing to hire a servant who’s terrible at his job.” The naked affection on Merlin’s face made him wonder if perhaps he was the last one to figure things out. Emboldened, Arthur moved in for deep, lazy kiss. It was the kiss of someone you’ve kissed a thousand times before with the hopes of doing it thousands more.

“You really are quite awful. I suppose it’s my civic duty to keep you on to protect my people from your vast ineptitudes.” 

“That must be it.” Merlin pulled up the covers that had slipped down Arthur’s back and tugged Arthur down to lay flush against him. He wrapped his arms around him and snuggled into his front. “I think we can manage one more hour away from it all, don’t you?” 

“Gods, you’re lazy.” But Arthur was already settling into him and closing his eyes.

**39.**

There once was a couch, and she was very, very lonely. 

Even though she lived with her cousin the futon, her second-cousin-twice-removed the bed, and her grandfather ottoman in the used furniture store, something was missing. Her once-glowing leather had worn spots on the cushions, and the back sagged slightly. Her heart broke every time a pair of eyes barely glanced her way before moving on, usually walking out with someone better "for the back."

The couch hadn't always been lonely; she’d had friends back at the giant factory where she came from – other couches with endless patterns, shapes and sizes – her brothers and sisters. And then later once they’d waved each other off in giant shipping trucks, she’d had friends on the shiny display-room floor of the department store – a side(-kick) table, an art-nouveau lamp, and a carpet whose life mission was to get himself under her. Gross. Then she’d been bought by a young couple, just starting out, moving in together, full of hope and glee and joy as they hopped onto her and laughed, snuggling together before chasing after the salesman (George, who the couch had liked best of all, because he'd cared for her the most). 

The couch had spent a few good years with the young couple, proud of her place by the window in their small-but-cosy apartment. She'd loved feeling the sun on her dark leather in the summer, and the chill of frost through the window in the winter. 

The couple had used her well, they cuddled together and watched TV, read, hosted parties – or the aftermath thereof, a drunk guest or two sprawled out on top, clinging to her –, but most especially her memorable first night with them. They'd collapsed on her, full of warmth and lust, and had made love on top of her, bodies sticking to her new leather and each other, their moans of pleasure ringing throughout the empty room. They'd spent the night there later, letting her keep them safe. 

But the years wore on, and so did the couple's relationship, and soon they were moving on and moving out and neither could stand to look at the couch so they'd sold her for shared profit, and here she was. 

Or there she'd been, with the ottoman, and the futon, and the bed, because they were still _there_ , inside, and she was here, outside. She got moved early morning, under a giant white tent, along with many of the other undesirables, and she knew where she was – the Clearance tent. It was the last stop for furniture like the couch, or that cherry wood table with cup rings ruining its perfect tabletop. From here it was either a home (if they were lucky) – or a landfill, because no one wanted them anymore. 

The couch gave up all hope.

"What about this one?" A voice nearby had brought the couch back to herself after hours or days of hopelessness. 

"It’s old and used." Another voice chimed in, disdain clear.

"It's cheap, Arthur. It's exactly what we need." The owner of the first voice – a young man with a dark fringe sticking out from underneath his beanie sat down on her. On the rightmost cushion, one arm falling over the back, the other rubbing along the armrest. "Come on, you have to at least try it out."

The other man – Arthur – sighed, but joined the first, sitting on the most-worn middle cushion and wriggling around for a bit.   
"How do we know who had this before us, what they've done. Money isn't an issue, Merlin-" 

The couch was getting offended, listening to him, and she was thankful when Merlin interrupted, "You _promised_ I'd pick and pay. And if it bothers you so much, we can upholster it, or I can get mum to make us a cover. Isn't it comfy?"

Merlin slid his arm from the back to Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and the couch wanted them to never leave. She hoped as hard as she could, while Merlin used his own kind of convincing, kissing Arthur until they finally stood and Arthur said, "Okay, fine, we'll take it."

After that, the couch wasn't lonely anymore, not with Arthur and Merlin (and the endless ways Merlin proved her usefulness to Arthur – with his hands and his mouth, and his cock), the nice woven cover she got, and especially not with the shedding monstrosity of a cat who insisted on sleeping on top of her day after day.

**40.**

He’d never get enough of this, when Merlin would wrap both arms around his chest, hauling him off his hands and onto Merlin’s lap. When he’d tug Arthur’s arm up and back, around his own neck to press wet and sucking kisses into the ticklish skin of his Arthur’s underarm, hips barely moving as he shoved up, up, up into Arthur. Loved how connected they felt, sweat all that was between their bodies, and how Arthur had only to turn his head a little to suck that salt off Merlin’s neck or have Merlin’s mouth on his, sharing the same pleasure, the same air, the same breath.

He loved how nobody else saw this Merlin. This passionate, sexy, vibrant, possessive Merlin who left his mark upon every inch of skin and bone and heart. Nobody else saw this strength, the force of Merlin’s lithe form as Arthur’s own moulded to its will, went where Merlin bid, and how if he reached back and cupped Merlin’s ass he’d feel that power, feel the muscles clench, feel that gorgeous cock drag against his insides, fat head rubbing against his gland and back to catch on his rim over and over and over, making his breath hitch and his eyes roll, shaking on unsteady knees but then there was Merlin’s arm, tight as a vice across his chest, mouth gentling to allow Arthur’s head to loll safe upon Merlin’s shoulder, golden hair darkened with well-earned perspiration. 

This was what he loved, when Merlin free arm slid down his belly, around and past his cock, to where his inner thigh flowed up into his groin, fingers hugging the straining tendon, nails scratching tantalisingly close to his balls before fingertips replaced them and the grip turned hard as Merlin shoved them upright onto their knees, using his twin holds to keep Arthur close as his lazy thrusts turned harsh and fast, Merlin’s breath punching out into the dark, fanning warm into Arthur’s throat, the headboard thudding out a thunderous tattoo against the wall. 

Merlin was always horny in the mornings, and Arthur was pretty much hot for Merlin whenever, wherever and however he could get his hands or mouth or cock near him so waking to Merlin mouthing at his cock, nails scratching his nipples to peaks, two fingers of the other hand hooked into the rim of his hole, pressing hard into the muscle causing the most delicious ache, was a fantasy he’d shared into the dark of their bedroom and Merlin was eagerly providing the reality. The little red light he’d spied glowing in the depths of the corner from atop their dresser betrayed the little addition Merlin had made; the camcorder they’d gotten before their trip to Greece recording every moan and kiss, every wet smack of skin and drip of sweat. Arthur groaned at the thought of watching the tape, of watching Merlin touching his slumbering self, watching Merlin tease and tantalise his prone body, seducing him into waking with that talented mouth and wicked hands, all up on their big-screen. 

He’d need a DVD too.

 

Arthur snagged his hand into Merlin’s hair, holding tight, as his other reached back to dig into Merlin’s ass, fingers grazing the crack, just for a moment feeling his fingertips graze the puckered skin of his lover’s entrance before his fingers skidded away on sweat-damp skin, pretending he was leaving his prints all over what was his, that if he pressed forcefully enough, those prints could never wash away, never fade like the bruises inevitably did, never leave Merlin’s body or heart. When Arthur couldn’t be there, when work called him away or Merlin’s patients kept him late that unique mark of Arthur would remain, claiming that endless pale skin, and every precious and dear thing it held, as his. 

Shuddering at Arthur’s touch, Merlin dropped the arm from around Arthur’s chest and mirrored his other hold upon Arthur’s groin, hands clamping onto Arthur’s thighs on that delicate skin, forefinger framing tight balls and thumbs rubbing up against Arthur’s shaft as he used his hands to haul Arthur back on his cock with every savage thrust, Arthur whimpering plaintively as he had to release his hold to blindly slap his hand onto the wall as each thrust threatened to topple them. He felt light-headed at the knowledge that in the right light, when the sun hit the paint just so, you could see a mural of handprints painted in sweat and oil, the marks of their love all over their flat.

**41.**

 

Just another lazy Sunday afternoon

Gwaine and Arthur stopped in their tracks when the dark-haired bloke pulled his t-shirt over his head, positioned it in the grass and flomped down on it, the football forgotten. 

“Damn, he’s hot.”

“Bit on the pale side.”

“But gorgeous.”

“I’m going to…”

“You will not,” Arthur interrupted him. “I saw him first.”

“Will you two get back to the game or shall we call it quits for today?” Percy yelled from the other side of their make-shift football pitch in the park and they both started moving again.

They ended their game a while later and said their good-byes. 

“If you’re not interested, princess…” Gwaine glanced at the dark-haired man who hadn’t moved in a while.

Arthur just growled and made his way over.

Damn, up close this guy was even more gorgeous. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, strong arms and legs. Obviously working out, but not overdoing it, just the way Arthur liked. And the black hair that curled slightly sweatily in the nape of his neck…Arthur swallowed hard. Without thinking further, he sat down, braced himself on one arm and leaned over to put a kiss on the hot skin. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, you’ll get sunburned.”

The man grumbled and rolled onto his back, his eyes slowly opening and blinking against the sun. He startled when he noticed Arthur next to him. “Err…wha…?”

“Fuck, you’re even hot when you’re sleepy.” Arthur grinned. 

“Hot…” The guy sat up and reached for his water bottle, not in the slightest startled about a stranger kissing his shoulder. Taking a sip, he made a face. “Warm as piss.”

Arthur laughed. “Let me buy you a cold water. I’m Arthur.”

“Merlin,” the bloke murmured and rubbed a hand through his hair, still trying to blink away the sleep. “You play football here every Sunday.”

“Yeah, we’re so good that you fell asleep watching us.” Grinning, Arthur plucked a blade of grass from Merlin’s arm. 

“Don’t care much about football.” A bit more awake, Merlin grinned and Arthur’s heart almost stopped. 

“What do you care about?” His gaze held Merlin’s eyes. 

“Some cold water right now. And a hot bloke later?” He got up, picked his t-shirt from the ground and shook the grass and dirt from it, only to fling it over his shoulder, looking expectantly at Arthur.

He was on his feet in no time and pointed over to the drinks stand. “Cold water that way.”

They didn’t talk much on the way back to Arthur’s place but the looks Merlin threw him made Arthur’s blood boil. As soon as they were through the door, he reached for him and pushed him against the door, kissing the lips that had been teasing him the whole time. And they tasted just as great as he had imagined, no, even better. 

A short while later, he had Merlin on his back on the bed and thrust into him frantically. There was no need to go slow, they both wanted this and there was always time for a slow and gentle repeat later. 

“Turn around,” Arthur ordered and slipped out.

Merlin didn’t ask questions and presented his firm butt. Arthur growled as he plunged in again, digging his fingers into Merlin’s hips and his teeth in Merlin’s shoulder. He tasted of sun and sweat and grass and…Arthur didn’t get to catalogue the other tastes and smells as his orgasm washed through him. 

He grinned when Merlin clenched around him and came, too. 

They lay panting and then Merlin chuckled. 

“What?” What’s so funny? Why do you laugh? Was I that good? But Arthur was too out of breath to ask these questions as he raised his head to look at Merlin.

“Next time, we should do it right there, in the park. Why waste so much precious time walking to your place?”

Arthur’s head dropped back as he groaned at the image. “You’re going to the death of me.”

“But what a way to go.”

**42.**

It was a dumb way to get into the ICU, no matter how you looked at it.

One moment, Merlin had been sitting on the Ferris wheel, celebrating his 18th birthday like a six-year-old. Having a birthday party in their small town’s pathetic excuse for an amusement park was quite possibly one of the dorkiest things Merlin had ever done, but Arthur couldn’t help but love him for it. It was one of those little things that made his boyfriend who he was, and although he’d criticized him at the time, he would be more than happy to celebrate fifty of Merlin’s birthdays on spinning wheels in Funderland Adventure Park, if it meant that Merlin got to have fifty more birthdays.

Because one moment, Merlin had been sitting on the Ferris wheel, and the next, he’d been lying on the ground forty feet below, sporting three fractured ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion that sent him into a coma he hadn’t yet come out of, even after five weeks of hospitalization.

If it weren’t for the tubes in his nostrils and the IV on his arm, Arthur might have thought Merlin was sleeping, as cliché as that sounded. He was breathing steadily now ever since they’d gotten him off the respirator a few days ago. If he’d been the poetic type, Arthur might have described the delicate flush of his cheeks, or coral-pink colour of his lips. Indecently, he was not the poetic type. That’s why Merlin just looked gorgeous.

“Wake up, will you?” Arthur said aloud. 

Merlin didn’t reply.

“You can’t just… check out. No one’s going to let you get off easily.”

The silence that followed was enough to make Arthur sit down heavily in a hospital chair and bury his face in his hands. When he’d pulled himself together, he quietly slipped next to Merlin’s bed and leaned in, hovering above him for a moment before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss, but he lingered longer than he might have ordinarily, breathing in the scent of antiseptics and Lysol mixed with a trace of Merlin. Then Merlin sighed.

Arthur stiffened. It couldn’t have been anything, but just to be sure, he kissed him a second time.

Again, Merlin sighed.

A desperate need for a response, _any_ response, drove him to kiss Merlin a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. After each one, he was rewarded with the small, fragile noises that made his heart skip a beat. Out of habit, Arthur began to suck on Merlin’s bottom lip, just the way he knew he liked it, eliciting a long, breathy groan that he hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Merlin? Can you hear me?” he murmured fervently. “Say something. Please.”

But Merlin didn’t say anything. Before he could think about what he was doing, Arthur reached beneath the white sheets and up Merlin’s hospital gown, pressing a hand against his—

Arthur froze. He hadn’t known comatose patients could get erections.

He should have stopped then. He should have walked away, left the hospital, and driven home, where he would take a cold shower and go to bed. He should have, but he didn’t. Instead, he scrambled awkwardly onto the tiny cot and kneeled above Merlin on his hands and knees, tracing his fingers along the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh before finding his entrance and pressing in and — _Oh God_ , there was another groan. His own cock was pressing uncomfortably against the denim of his jeans by the time Merlin was ready.

“I know you’re in there, Merlin,” he whispered into Merlin’s shoulder as he pulled down his zipper and drew himself out into the cold hospital air. “Say something, you prick, please, don’t–don’t leave—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish, so instead he lined up with Merlin’s entrance and thrust inside. Quickly, he found a rhythm that had the boy beneath him twitching and shivering, and within minutes, it was all too much for either of them. When he felt Merlin come, his tight muscles constricting around him, he knew he was done for. Arthur followed suit, basking in a couple moments of white-hot orgasm that left him weak and shaking on top of Merlin’s hospital bed, wondering how the hell he was going to explain this to the nurses. Luckily, he never had to. Their attention would be diverted by a dry, groggy voice coming from the head of the hospital bed.

“…Arthur?” said the voice. “Is that you?”

**43.**

Merlin's a heavy sleeper. Arthur isn't. And Arthur, much as he might like to deny it because he somehow thinks it lessens his manliness, is a cuddler, tactile, seeks comfort in touch when something has awoken him - some panic or paranoia or nightmare. And so, when Merlin wakes in the early hours of the morning or in the middle of the night, it is often like this - with Arthur wrapped around him, his hand playing about Merlin's cock, drawing it to hardness almost unconsciously, his own nestled in the small of Merlin's back while he ruts. 

Arthur's gentle - gentle enough that Merlin can float in that dreamlike state between awake and asleep, and enjoy the warmth, the way he's cradled, the humming arousal curling around him from his fingers and toes and along his arms and legs, thrumming in his blood while Arthur's hand coaxes him to push back and forth. Merlin's eyes are closed, he almost wants this to be a dream, because it would be such a nice one, and he almost does fall back to sleep, until Arthur behind him moves, settles lower, and his cock slides down between Merlin's thighs - hot, slick-sticky, and undeniably of the real, waking world. 

Merlin moans, startled, starts to come to properly. But Arthur's hand on his cock is an anchor, stops him from jerking awake, and Arthur's hips hitch with a rhythm that's so familiar it quiets him.

Merlin is weighted down by blankets and quilts, and he knows from the prickling of the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears that it's cold outside the bed, but Arthur is a furnace, comforting and soothing, and the way they start to rock together is drugging, drowsing, all on its own. The wakefulness Merlin felt starts to ease again with Arthur's long-drawn out breaths at the nape of his neck, the wetness between Merlin's thighs growing as Arthur slicks himself through eagerness and stimulation.

Merlin could fall asleep like this, cradled and warm and cared for. 

Arthur's chest rises and falls against Merlin's back, though, and his breathing against Merlin's skin has turned to helpless kisses, has turned to the edge of teeth, and Merlin holds himself in and still and unresponsive except to how Arthur moves him, because as much as he loves this loose-limbed feeling he knows Arthur loves it _more_ \- loves that Merlin will let him do this, loves that Merlin feels safe enough with him that he doesn't even wake up when Arthur starts to need him like this, late at night and desperate. 

Even when Arthur's hand grows tight, insistent, urges Merlin to climax faster and faster, even when Arthur's hips shove, when his cock rides the soft skin of Merlin's bollocks with the burning heat of his leaking slit, even when Arthur's teeth stop being a sharp, shivery edge of _maybe_ and become a bite, fastened like an anchor above the highest knob of bone in Merlin's spine, Merlin still flops and floats, still takes it, because he's riding it like a wave and the hum of arousal is a buzz and a burn deep inside him now. 

He needs this. He needs Arthur to need him. 

He needs to come.

Arthur is shaking now, pushing and pushing and pushing until Merlin can hear the wooden frame of the bed creaking below them, and when Arthur lets go Merlin bites his lip against a whimper and does the same, unable to hang on any longer, and between them they are a mess, but they are a warm, sated mess.

That is probably extremely apt, Merlin thinks dozily. 

Arthur settles after that, still with Merlin wrapped in his arms, and he nuzzles and licks at the place he bit absently while his breathing evens out, and he slips towards sleep.

Merlin is almost completely under again when Arthur murmurs ' _God_ I love you,' in his ear. 

**44.**

Merlin notices the absence of rank socks before he notices anything else, back flat against wood flooring. Then it’s holy slippers, blue jeans, the thick layer of dust - all of it gone, and it seems the humans have cleaned.

Of course, that isn’t always the case, and he’s trained to consider as much, take in his surroundings carefully, no matter how many times he’s done a job, so it’s quite stupid when he flings himself out from under the bed, horns and claws protruding, and gets himself sliced in the guts with something sharp.

He has enough time to think _that’s not my human,_ and then he thinks nothing at all.

***

This human’s blond, and very different from the weedy man Merlin had thought to live in this place. He’s tall, broad across the shoulders. Strong nose, strong jawline.

He also hasn’t seen that Merlin’s awake.

Merlin tilts his head, neck twisted from the fall, and watches this blond man flit about his bedroom, muttering to himself in alternating pitches, riffling through one cardboard box and then another. He’s still got the pocket knife, blade flashing in the lamplight.

Merlin lets him drive himself mad for a minute, discreetly prodding at his middle to check that the wound’s sealed up, and then, when the man comes a little closer, heading for the box next to the bed and probably for his mobile, Merlin leaps up and takes hold of his shirt, ripping the back out in his swiftness.

He gets the man up against the wall, easy, a clawed hand to his chest. He smells good.

“You should be more careful with that,” he says, squeezing the man’s wrist until he drops the knife. “Could’ve stuck me somewhere vital.”

A few breaths pass between them, rattled and quick on the man’s part, deep pulls on Merlin’s, and the man’s gaze flicks up towards Merlin’s horns.

He should go. He knows he should. The humans are not supposed to get such good looks at them, certainly not supposed to talk to them, but then Merlin shouldn’t have shot out into the open as he had either.

He pulls his horns in, slowly, watching fear leave the man like he’s sprung a leak. So amusingly stupid, these creatures.

“I’ll kill you,” the man snarls, showing his teeth, and, gods, he’s pretty.

“Will you?” Merlin asks, pressing a little closer, and the man shoves at him, seems taken aback when Merlin doesn’t shift an inch.

“Let go of me!”

Merlin nods, twitches his brow into a small condescending frown. “I would,” he says, “but then you’ll go for your knife again and it’ll be messy. Or I’d have to hurry up and leave.” He leans in and takes another deep breath of the man, all along his neck, making him tense. “And I don’t want to leave yet.”

“What do you want?” It comes out a little strangled. A valiant attempt at sounding level.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asks, mouth against skin. This man had - he’d had a wank just before Merlin had shown up. He’d pulled on his cock and shot off all the way up where his hair starts to curl behind his ear, right where Merlin presses his nose.

“I - I’m not -”

“Come on,” Merlin whispers, moves down, gives him a kiss under his chin.

“I don’t - what are you -”

“I just want your name.” Merlin kisses him under his bottom lip this time. “That’s all.”

“It’s Arthur,” the man says in a rush.

“Arthur,” Merlin repeats and rubs, just a little, against Arthur’s leg. “I like you, Arthur,” he says. “You’re a lot better than my last human.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about - Just - go back to wherever you -”

Merlin moves quick and cups his hand over Arthur’s cock. “Were you tugging on this earlier?” he says into Arthur’s ear. “I can smell it. Didn’t do a very good job cleaning up.”

Arthur hisses, jerks forward. “What the fuck - you -”

“What did you think about?” Merlin goes on, slotting himself nicely, cock right up against Arthur’s knee. “Think about girls?”

Arthur’s head clunks against the wall.

“No?” Merlin rubs harder, rolls his hips. “Boys? You think about boys, Arthur?” And he’s willing to bet Arthur does if the jerk in his trousers is any indication. “Think about a nice cock in your arse? Sliding into someone else? Getting them all slick?”

“God,” Arthur gasps, confused and high.

Merlin hums lowly. “Think about licking them out?” he asks, hums again. “I want to lick you out.” And then he’s coming, sending himself over on Arthur’s knee, already thinking of the next time he’ll come out from Arthur’s bed. Maybe he won’t wait.

**45.**

Merlin clutched the sheets and bit his lip, trying to suppress the moan that was trying to escape past his lips. He was being bent over almost half, his thighs being held wide apart and the heels of his feet were hooked over Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur who was, as usual, almost crazy with the haze of lust, thrusting into him like his life depended on it.

He could see the sheen of sweat covering Arthur’s face and could hear the whole room being filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, skin slapping against skin, and the mattress creaking beneath them. The only thing that was missing was the thud of the headboard against the wall.

It might’ve been here by now, the constant thud thud thud, but they weren’t in their room, in the bed or in their flat; it was a cheap budget motel they rented for the night after getting lost in their supposedly epic gay road trip around the ‘world’. When in actuality they just got on the M1 and Arthur, the idiot, didn’t take the left turn and here they are in the middle of nowhere after five hours of driving non-stop and bickering all throughout. 

Point is. This stupid bed was making things worse, or better, whichever you see them. Arthur was channelling all the frustration and tension of all those five hours, in bed, but said bed isn’t cooperating.

They both love it when they fuck each other hard enough that the bed literally rattles with them, but that is not happening and Arthur’s showing the tell tale sign that he might be losing his energy by now.

Merlin groaned at the idea of not getting off. This was a bad idea. They were both tired and angry and they should’ve let it rest for next morning. But nooo, they just had to rip each other’s clothes the moment they closed the door. And now, Arthur and if Merlin was being quite honest with himself, was losing his rhythm and all Merlin was thinking at the moment was he needed sleep. Now. 

So, Merlin pushed Arthur away and Arthur, surprisingly, relented and slumped face down beside him, groaning like he was in pain as he pulled out of Merlin, and they both just breathed in taking all the oxygen in the air.

After a few minutes of just taking their breath, Arthur looked at Merlin with amusement in his eyes.

‘We just stopped in the middle of sex’

Merlin chuckled, ‘I guess there’s a first for everything’

‘I’m exhausted’

‘Me too’

‘To be continued then?’

‘To be continued’

Arthur threw his arm over Merlin and pulled him closer before snuggling into Merlin’s neck and breathed him in. Merlin just sighed tiredly. ‘This whole road trip idea seemed like a brilliant one when it was still in my head’

Arthur was barely awake as he mumbled a jumble of words into Merlin’s skin before snoring softly.

Merlin woke up harder than he could remember himself be, and with two familiar fingers inside him, already stretching him open, and he let out a very obscene moan when they hit right on his pleasure point.

‘This is sexual harassment,’ Merlin gasped when he felt Arthur thrusting in a third finger.

All he got as a reply was Arthur’s deep chuckle, and a kiss to the back of his neck, before he lost every coherent thought except Arthur Arthur Arthur

And then he came. Loudly. A splitting familiar pain on his head before he passed out.

**46.**

Merlin felt like he had been asleep for days when he finally felt the sun creep through his window _without_ it giving him an instant headache. ‘An unusual infection’ Gaius had said, when he’d first tumbled into bed feverish. The potions Gaius had forced down his throat to break the fever must have finally helped, as he felt much better than he had in weeks. 

Getting up he instantly noticed the silence. The sun told him it was already past mid-day, yet he couldn’t hear the usual noise that accompanied the comings of goings of life at the citadel. When he found Gaius asleep, headfirst on a pile of books, a creepy suspicion started to grow. He ran outside, taking in the sight of guards scattered left and right, asleep, Merlin realized, not dead, and he found that knowledge at least should reassure him. But when he didn’t find a single person awake in the entire castle, Merlin couldn’t be more worried. This was magic. It most certainly was. 

He quickly ran up to Arthur’s chambers, because clearly this had Morgana written all over it; she must have cast a spell so that everyone would be asleep and nobody could stop her killing Arthur. 

But he found Arthur, safe and sound, though fast asleep like everyone else. 

Back in Gaius’ studio he found the book he was slumped over was a spell book, opened on the page of a spell to wake someone. Obviously Gaius had had an inkling of what was going on. Merlin tried the spell and on his third try he succeeded.

“Merlin! Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Gaius cried the instant his eyes opened to see Merlin. 

“What’s going on? Why is everyone asleep?” 

“It’s you, Merlin. Your magic went wild while you were feverish. It started with the prince. Arthur was the first to fall asleep and nobody was able to wake him. Others followed. All the while your eyes were glowing, even though you were asleep.” 

“I was casting a sleeping spell in my sleep?” Merlin asked bewildered. 

Gaius nodded, “It would appear so. Whatever the reason, it’s something to do with Arthur. Something your magic believes you want but Arthur is only to give to you while he sleeps. Find a way to…” Gaius fell forward again and Merlin jumped when he heard a loud snore. 

He cursed, trying the spell again but it didn’t work. He was on his own.

***

He looked at Arthur and wondered what reason he could have had to send him into an endless sleep. The king looked peaceful asleep, Merlin often wished he could take away his troubles. Trouble had a way of finding Arthur no matter where he went. Maybe rendering him asleep Merlin wouldn't have to worry about losing him all the time. Merlin could stand guard for his Once and Future king for centuries if he had to, but that can't have been what his subconscious wanted. 

His subconscious had already given its answer, as he realized he had unknowingly started to caress Arthur’s hair. And wasn’t that what he wanted - Arthur, his to touch, his body to explore, further than the sneaking lingering touches as he got the king ready for his bath. 

Once Merlin gave into his subconscious, he gave into it fully, removing Arthur’s bedclothes with quick, urgent hands and rubbing his face against his crotch. It smelled like Arthur but stronger, heady, undeniably erotic. Any doubts Merlin may have had about following through were gone. He sucked Arthur’s limp cock into his mouth, pulling back the foreskin with his lips to tongue the tip. He kissed sloppy wet kisses all over Arthur’s cock until it started to harden. Encouraged, Merlin increased his suction, moving his mouth up and down over Arthur’s erection. 

Arthur moaned, his eyes were still shut but he was definitely responding, bucking into Merlin's mouth. Merlin's hart started pounding in his chest - It was working!

Wanting more, Merlin dipped his tongue lower, into the dark, musky hole. He knew he was simply taking everything he could. But Arthur’s body was coming more and more alive, muscles clenching and cock twitching. 

Merlin closed his mouth around it again, knowing it wouldn’t be long now. 

“Merlin!” Arthur gasped as he came. 

Merlin’s own orgasm took him by surprise, spilling over his hand; he closed his eyes against the intensity of it. When he opened them again, he found Arthur staring at him, eyes shrouded with arousal as he looked at Merlin in wonder. 

**47.**

If you ask Merlin, he was ever the innocent in this scenario.

It is a peculiar twist of fate that found Morgana in his bed. Her nakedness exposed to him. Wild passion fueling both their lusts and need for power, satisfaction. Golden light shining from their eyes as they find that the other knows now they are of magic-born, the love did not decrease as they tumble into bed the next night.

With a knock at the door, Merlin sits up in bed, covering up Morgana his miniscule blanket, when he hears the voices of Gaius and Arthur speaking downstairs in raised voices. Deftly, he silences Morgana with his finger as he hears Arthur shout, “I know you’re here, Merlin. Everyone at the tavern told me you haven’t been there tonight.”

Morgana gives Merlin a look, mouthing the words, Tavern, really. She smiles a cool smile as she reaches to kiss him again, but she holds off as Merlin shakes his head, saying, “This is not a good idea,” pointing behind him, he adds, “not with Arthur downstairs.”

This elicits a little laugh from Morgana, she rolls her head back and pulls Merlin towards her stifling his protests with her tongue. Whispering against his mouth, Morgana murmurs, “What are you so afraid of? Arthur can’t hurt me.”

No, she is right, Arthur cannot hurt Morgana, but he could hurt Merlin. All of the cruel ways Uther taught Arthur to hunt down magic users and kill them for practicing would be nothing to defacing the ward of the King. His legs quaking as he hears Gaius trying to console Arthur with his usual stories. The tavern is shot to hell now, but the collection of fireflies was a new one.

A rush of night air tells Merlin that Arthur is quite put out at this new gently woven tale, and he shouts up the stairs, “I may be dense Merlin, but I’m not stupid. If you are hiding a girl up there, I will find out about it,” even though he couldn’t see Arthur, he knew he must have this funny look on his face, “even the most trained prostitutes don’t know how to conceal their love bites half so well.”

Arthur slams the door behind him, and Merlin looks over to Morgana with fear. Her face giving nothing away as she pulls her nightgown back and starts to collect her other items thrown across the room, it would not have been a good time to tell her that bending over the way she was made him as hard as a rock. The mood however is officially dead.

Nothing would be able to fix the inevitable rift that is to come between as Arthur’s breath of air sucks the life out of everything. Prince Stick-In-The-Mud, King Clotpole, the ruler of all, dictating the very nature and behavior of his subjects.

Like so many times before, Morgana looks at him with a little sadness—that pleading for help—she aches for release, but the hand is holding a fist over his heart as he balances that tightrope wire under his feet. He whispers, “I shouldn’t be afraid for you. Forgive me.”

Those words fall on deafness as Morgana leaves without turning around, her retreating figure leaving traces of angst on Merlin’s heart.

**48.**

For a few seconds after he wakes up, Arthur expects Merlin to tumble into his chambers with his breakfast precariously balanced on a tray like he always does... but then the warmth beside him reminds him that yesterday, he finally relieved Merlin of his manservant duties once and for all.

He grins happily into the pillow and turns his head to look at the darling idiot who lies beside him, half wrapped over his back, face close to Arthur’s own. He’s sleeping peacefully. Leaning in, Arthur gives him a kiss on the nose.

“’At the ‘ell?” Merlin mumbles, swatting with his hand at something not even close to where Arthur were a second ago. Not so strange, since he doesn’t even open his eyes.

“Morning, sleepy,” Arthur whispers, leans over and presses a kiss to Merlin’s ear. He can feel Merlin shiver slightly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re ready for today’s activities.”

“’At’s that?”

“Oh, another meeting with the council, making your first public appearance before the city, an audience for those petitioning Camelot’s help... You know, the usual business now that you’re officially Court Sorcerer -- _and_ your beloved King’s consort.”

“’Uck. You.” Merlin whines into the pillow. “It’s too early.”

Arthur laughs. “It is. Go back to sleep.”

At that, Merlin actually opens an eye and glares at Arthur. “You saying you needn’t have woken me up yet? Are you insane? Who does that to their supposed loved one?”

Arthur actually laughs at that. “Someone who has been teased by his clotpole of a manservant for years? Payback’s a bitch, Merlin, love.”

And then he turns his back on Merlin’s scandalised face, and promptly falls back asleep.

***

When he wakes up next, his splayed out on his stomach feeling... rather content, although he can’t think of why that is. But when Merlin’s laboured breaths ghost the shell of his ear, he realises what’s happening.

It’s the amazing feeling of Merlin’s long, thin fingers curling inside his arse, working him open like they’ve done many, many times before. But never like this, never has Arthur _woken up_ to that sensation. He tries to move a hand, stroke Merlin’s thigh to show him that it’s appreciated, when he becomes aware that he can’t move.

That’s new and strangely exciting. 

Merlin must be holding him down by magic. Huh, handy. Closing his eyes, Arthur concentrates on nothing but Merlin’s fingers and breathing. His cock grows harder, pressed between the bed and his stomach. It’s responding eagerly to Merlin’s talented fingers filling his arse but because of the magic, Arthur’s unable to rut against the coarseness of the sheet to gain friction. It’s both hot and frustrating.

Does Merlin even know he’s awake? It doesn’t seem that way... He doesn’t talk incessantly like he normally does.  
After a few more strokes, Merlin removes his fingers from the tight warmth and straightens up. Arthur lets out an involuntary groan.

Merlin laughs softly. “You shouldn’t have woken me up that early, Arthur, _love._ ”

That’s a rather nasty imitation of Arthur’s earlier try to give Merlin a pet name, but he can’t help but huff out a laugh anyway. It turns into a gasp when he can feel Merlin’s cock nudging his entrance.

“Mer--”

“Shh,” Merlin lowers his voice to a whisper as he leans forward over Arthur’s back again, “That’s okay, though, because nowadays I can just take what I want as payment for missed sleep.”

Arthur lets out a loud groan when Merlin pushes into him. His eyes water as he squeezes them shut again, unable to show his appreciation for Merlin’s cock and hands in any other way.

The thrusts are anything but gentle and Arthur fists at the sheets, turns them into balls when Merlin grabs his hair, forcing him head-first into the pillow, making it difficult to breathe.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Arthur gasps for air when Merlin roughly pulls his head up again. He gets thirty seconds to breathe in as much oxygen as he can before he’s pushed down again.

It doesn’t take much more than that. His yells are muffled by the pillow as he comes virtually untouched. One, two... three more thrusts and Merlin groans before collapsing on top of his back. They both breathe heavily, Merlin lovingly caressing the nape of Arthur’s neck.

“So...” he says eventually, “Don’t wake me too early.”

“Merlin. If this is what happens, I’ll never let you sleep late ever again.”

**49.**

Merlin visited Arthur in his dreams. They started just after the funeral where a priest banged on about how amazing Merlin had been, how much he’d be missed. 

 

“Arthur,” Merlin said running his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You shouldn’t be so sad.”

 

“You’re gone.”

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Gwen tried to cheer him up by dragging him to the park but he didn’t like the sun’s warmth or the scent of lake and grass without Merlin there next to him. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Morgana told him to get over it already, but she also ran her fingers through his hair so he didn’t listen. 

 

/ \ / \

 

He dreamed about Merlin every night. 

 

They were at the park. Arthur was leaning against a tree with Merlin using his thigh for a pillow and pointing out shapes in the clouds. 

 

“It’s okay to move on with your life,” Merlin said. “It’s what I want.”

 

“I just want you.”

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Eventually, he had to pretend to be better. He had to go back to work and shop for food. He went back to running before breakfast every morning. He occasionally went to lunch, or dinner, with his friends but they never quite stopped looking at him with worry. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Arthur started going to bed earlier so that he could dream. 

 

/ \ / \ 

 

Merlin was burrowed under the blankets. Arthur pulled the top one off but Merlin clutched tightly at the rest, still asleep. Arthur would just have to go the other way. He slipped down beneath their blankets until he could slide between Merlin’s knees. Arthur kissed the inside of Merlin’s knee but he didn’t even twitch. Arthur smiled against the smooth, hairless skin beneath his mouth and slowly moved up. He licked and nipped and kissed all the way up Merlin’s thigh. Arthur could see the gap created by Merlin’s growing interest and smirked when he felt the muscle beneath his mouth tense. 

 

Arthur stopped and went down to the other knee. He made his way up this thigh more slowly. He could tell Merlin was awake now but his husband was trying very hard to hold his reactions. Arthur enjoyed teasing Merlin but more than that he liked to win. He rose up and wrapped his mouth around Merlin’s balls. 

“Shit, Arthur!”

 

Arthur pulled back from Merlin to laugh. “Yes, Merlin?” Then he set back to work, licking and kissing his way up Merlin’s cock robbing him of his will to speak. 

 

Merlin slid his fingers into Arthur’s hair. 

 

“It’s been too long,” Merlin panted. “I missed you.”

 

Arthur froze and Merlin’s hand curled down over his cheek. 

 

“Arthur, I’m right here.”

 

Arthur shook the half formed memory away and dedicated himself to making Merlin’s cock as wet and slippery as possible. Merlin’s fingers continued to clutch, pulling Arthur’s mouth down with gentle fingers. 

 

“Arthur,” Merlin hissed out. “Please.”

 

Arthur moved one hand up, slid a finger into Merlin’s mouth and moaned around his cock as Merlin made it wet. Arthur pulled it back down and used it to circle and then push into Merlin. Merlin arched up, his cock nudging at the back of Arthur’s throat. Arthur pulled his mouth away and Merlin pushed the blankets off until he could see Arthur. 

 

“You’re not going to fuck me, are you?”

 

Arthur smiled and kept moving his finger inside Merlin as he slowly slithered up Merlin’s body. He kissed him, open mouthed and needy, before he pulled his finger away, straddled Merlin and sunk down onto his cock. 

 

“Tight,” Merlin gasped. 

 

“You know I never open myself up as well as you do,” Arthur said moving on Merlin’s erection. 

 

Merlin slumped back for a few rolls of Arthur’s hips and then reached up, one hand curling around Arthur’s hip, the other gripping the back of Arthur’s neck to pull him down into a kiss. 

 

The first press of Merlin’s lips made Arthur remember. 

 

The police visit. The distant sympathy. The funeral. Arthur froze but Merlin kept kissing him pulling him back into the moment. 

 

“I’m here now,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s lips.

 

Arthur nodded and kissed Merlin again and then began to move. His hips rocking more slowly than they had the last time…their last time. 

 

Merlin’s hand wrapped around Arthur’s cock. 

 

“I want to last.” Arthur tried to push him away.

 

Merlin shook his head and started meeting Arthur’s thrusts pushing them both closer. 

 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Arthur panted out just before his orgasm took him. 

 

/ \ / \

 

Arthur woke – his sleep pants covered in come. Then he cried. 

**50.**

He swiped a thumb lightly over the black strokes, smudging them into a soft sweep of dark lashes. A dab with the eraser and a few deft retouches with his pencil around the cleaned spot became a glimmer of moisture on full lips parted in sleep. A hint of sharply angled cheekbones to the side, edged with the suggestion of tousled curls... enough.

Morgana came in from the pool, scrubbing her hair as carelessly as though she hadn't spent an hour that morning fussing over it. But it had done its job anyway, if that languid smile and Gwen's sheepish glance at them as she trailed in after Morgana were any indication.

"Does Merlin know you're drawing pornographic pictures of him?" asked Morgana, letting her meaningful gaze stroke down Merlin's sleeping figure, sprawled over the daybed, long limbs spread open like an offering, an invitation to debauchery.

Gwen blushed, started to stammer remonstrance; Arthur only smiled, his conscience clear. "Of course, I asked for his help," he said, blandly beginning a new sketch, this one taking full advantage of Merlin's pose. 

But only the outline, tracing the way his limbs bent, the sweet curve of his back, leaving out the details Arthur really wanted to keep -- the hipbone peeking from the pale triangle uncovered by his rumpled tee and loose boxers, the beginning of the line of hair leading downwards... Enough.

"I don't want to know what you and Gwen got up to in the pool," he offered as a return volley.

Morgana sneered, and strolled out. Gwen blushed darkly and foll owed her, giggling a little. He began on another fragment, a masculine, graceful hand gripping a silk scarf wrapped taut around the wrist. He could imagine the other end of the scarf secured to the bedframe he left out. 

Satisfied with the bound hand, he started again. Curled toes, a slim foot, and the delicate array of bones suggested beneath fine skin and flesh, up the slim, hairy calf tense with orgasm.... He stopped at the knee scratched by a fall from a bicycle last week, and looked up to see the gleam from Merlin's slitted eyes, watching him.

"Hey." Arthur cleared his throat. "When did you wake?"

Merlin's eyes slid shut for a few seconds, and Arthur thought he might have gone back to sleep. Then he let out a soft moan as his body rippled, flexing with a subtle stretch that left him in the same position. "Morgana," Merlin said simply. "How is your art class going?"

"Awful," he confessed. "I do wonderful landscapes and still-lifes. But my humans. My anatomy and attempts at foreshortening are not terrible. But I can't put all the pieces together, unless you're talking Frankenstein's creature." 

Merlin blinked slowly, still not fully awake, absorbing. "Faces?"

"Great with Barbies or Ken faces. Terrible when I try actual expressions." When Merlin started to shake his head, frowning, Arthur added, "Do an O-face for me ."

There was a pause while Merlin digested the word, trying to figure if he really heard what he didb then he laughed aloud and screwed his features into a terrrible expression. "Like this? That's my O-face."

"All right, hold that look, very good," Arthur praised, grinning as Merlin took a moment to absorb the words, then dissolved into giggles. "Beautiful!"

When Merlin had calmed down, he stretched again. "Mind if I turn over? I want to lie on my stomach."

"Go ahead, a new pose will be good," Arthur said. He held his breath while Merlin flopped over and shuffled until he was half-curled around his stomach, the small of his back revealed to Arthur's avid gaze. The swell of his buttocks strained subtly against his boxers, more fodder for Arthur's pencil.

Nothing would show in his book, should Morgana or Merlin decide they wanted to see what he was drawing. All incomplete fragments, mixed in with pieces of other people -- Gwen, Lance, even Morgana -- not enough to give him away. None of the images in his imagination of Merlin bent, spread, gasping for air, hand on his hard cock or fingers up his arse, made it to paper. Not the ones with him swallowing Merlin down while Merlin's full lips stretched around his... Arthur knew when to stop.

His breath had quickened, marginally. Lying as though asleep, Merlin's veiled eyes glittered, watching him in return.


	7. Group C (no warnings)

**51.**

The first few times it happened Arthur was willing to overlook it as a reaction to Arthur’s recent illness and the stress of the Questing beast incident; no matter how confused Merlin appeared to be waking up in Arthurs chambers each morning curled tight in the seat facing Arthur’s bed.

The third time it happened and Arthur awoke wrapped in long limbs with his face pressed against Merlin’s he called for Gaius. 

***

“What’s wrong with him Gaius?” Arthur asked. (“Nothing, you prat! Nothing is wrong!”)

“It’s nothing serious sire but it appears Merlin has developed a mild sleep disorder,” Gaius answered. He raised an eyebrow in Merlins' direction. “I’m afraid you’ve been sleepwalking around the castle each evening, perhaps in an unconscious attempt to ensure the prince’s safety.”

If Arthur were a young girl or a romantic he would have melted at this theory. Instead he punched Merlin in the arm before glaring him into submission.

“I’m not a girl Merlin! Do I need to remind you I’ve been trained to kill since birth!”

(“It’s not my fault if I’m not awake while I’m doing it!”)

“Don’t worry sire, I’ll keep an eye on him tonight,” Giaus pacified, “Though you should take his key to your rooms, just to be safe.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” Arthur agreed, still glaring.

(“Hey! No! That’s my key!”)

***

When the sound of the door stirred Arthur awake that night, he wasn’t surprised. If living with Merlin for the past year had taught him anything, it was that Merlin never did what you wanted him to. Apparently he didn’t even need to be fully conscious to ignore Arthur’s plans.

“We’re going to have a talk tomorrow about how contrary you are to your betters,” Arthur grouched, as Merlin climbed into the bed next to him, snuggling up to Arthur’s side. “And how the bloody hell did you get in anyway? I took your key!”

Merlin mumbled something incomprehensible into Arthur's shoulder, lips dragging against bare skin, sending tiny frissons of want along Arthur’s spine. Arthur sighed and began trying to detach himself from Merlin's tentacle like grip before surrendering to the inevitable and rolling over to get some more sleep.

***

Merlin awoke feeling more comfortable and refreshed then he ever remembered being. His morning erection was rubbing against something warm and smooth causing the most delicious friction while he had a nice warm weight in his hand that was in obvious need of squeezing. It only took him two tugs and somebody else's long moan to realize that the cock in his hand wasn’t his own. He definitely wasn’t in a dream where he had two dicks and was instead in bed with another person whom he was, quite shamelessly, feeling up.

With some trepidation he opened his eyes to the uncompromising morning light, praying that he hadn’t somehow fallen into bed with King or, even worse, Gaius.

As frozen in fear as he was, it was something of a relief to recognise the drapery above him and realise he was in bed with the prince. 

“Don’t stop now Merlin, you tease,” Arthur groaned breathlessly, “I swear to god if you’re sleep- wanking me right now I might just kill you.”

Merlin laughed, rolling over to plant his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck as he began to nip and lick his way across the prince’s collar bone. “What’s the matter sire? It sounds like you need to relieve some tension.”

Arthur growled before pouncing, planning on doing just that.

And if Merlin spent the night in Arthur’s chambers from then on, well that was just sensible.

After all someone had to keep an eye on his sleepwalking. 

**52.**

As soon as they get home Arthur takes a seat in the couch in the front room. Merlin goes to make tea.

 

“Merlin, are you ever going to clean up around here? There’s so much rubbish around. You may be used to living like a pig, but-”

 

Merlin doesn’t react to the abrupt unfinished statement. He was used to it by now. He still finishes making the tea and brings it out to Arthur. 

Arthur’s head is bent forward and it bobs up and down as he sleeps. Merlin grabs a soft fluffy red pillow and puts it behind Arthur and gently moves Arthur’s head back. 

For once Arthur wasn’t exaggerating. The place really was a sty right now. Merlin bends down and begins to tidy up. He may have complained to Arthur before, but he generally does perform the duties of a housekeeper/assistant. 

Arthur’s father Uther had hired him to be a companion to Arthur and look after him and make sure Arthur had someone there for him when incidents happened, like the one at the coffee shop. Uther had hired Merlin after a somewhat highly publicized incident after Arthur had fallen asleep at the wheel and caused much damage to a building at Camelot University. 

He grabs a couple of cups and as he’s walking at of the room he hears Arthur moan slightly. This is not something that is very unusual. Arthur has vivid dreams and sometimes mumbles in his sleep.

Another moan, breathier than before stops Merlin in his tracks. That was a sound he hasn’t heard before. The sound stirs something inside him. He turns back slowly and watches as Arthur begins to gradually writhe against the black leather couch. 

 

Merlin can’t help himself as he puts down the stained, empty cups and walks towards Arthur. He slowly takes a seat beside him. For two months now, Merlin has done a very good job at hiding his true feelings for Arthur. Arthur may be condescending, arrogant, and stubborn but he is the most beautiful thing Merlin has ever seen. And despite Arthur’s best efforts, living with him Merlin gets to see the small moments of vulnerability that come through every time Arthur wakes up disoriented and unsure of where he is. 

 

For someone with such a need for control, having a condition like this tears at Arthur’s soul. It’s one of the reasons Merlin loves challenging him. There’s a fire and spark to Arthur in those moments that isn’t there otherwise. It’s the real Arthur and Merlin craves his presence more and more. 

 

Arthur’s hands begin to roam over his chest as he practically humps the air. Merlin aches to touch him.

 

Arthur’s mouth falls open and he licks his lips. “Oh...Oh, Merlin...”

 

It feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. Did Arthur just...?

 

“Merlin, please...”

 

Yes, yes he did. “That’s my name.” Merlin breathes out. He almost smacks himself in the forehead at the lameness of that comment. 

As Arthur’s hands slowly trail down further south, Merlin’s gaze follows the journey and he feels another gut punch when he sees the tent in Arthur’s jeans. 

 

“Merlin, please don’t stop. I need you.” 

 

Merlin’s lust is muffled momentarily at Arthur’s words and the ache in his voice. He sounds so desperate and needy. In that moment, Merlin thinks he would give Arthur just about anything.

Merlin finds himself reaching out to him. But before he can touch Arthur, he startles when Arthur’s eyes fly open. He quickly withdraws his hand. 

“I just had the most intense, fascinating...” He swivels around and faces Merlin. “...dream.” 

 

He’s still panting and Merlin looks down quickly. He knows his face must be an embarrassing shade of red. 

 

Merlin looks up briefly when Arthur gasps. Arthur is looking down at his erection. 

 

“It was just a dream, Arthur. It’s okay. I’m just going to leave. I’m sorry.” He tries to get up, but Arthur’s hand on his arm stops him.

“I know why I have an erection Merlin but...why do you?” Arthur’s eyes widen as he stares at Merlin’s crotch.

 

Merlin peers down at his lower half and gapes in shock. How had he not realized he had gotten hard? No wonder he was so dizzy with all of his blood flow going to his nether regions.

 

He tries to leave again, but Arthur’s hand tightens on his forearm.

 

“I’m not imagining that, am I?”

 

Merlin is surprised at the hopeful tone in Arthur’s voice. “No.” Merlin says in a tiny voice. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I don’t know what’s come over me. And I’m so-

 

Arthur shushes him. “Merlin, if you say you’re sorry one more time...” He licks his lips and moves a bit closer to Merlin. “Do you want me, Merlin?”

 

Merlin knows he should lie but he doesn’t know how to with Arthur staring at him with such naked want and need. He just nods once. 

Arthur grins wickedly and eyes Merlin with predatory lust. He kisses Merlin and pushes them to the floor. 

 

The responsible side of Merlin wages a brief war with the part of himself that is desperate to bury himself in Arthur so deeply that he will still feel him for days afterwards. He pulls back. “What if you fall asleep?”

 

Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand and places it firmly against his crotch. “I can assure you I am very much awake Merlin. I don’t think I’ve been this awake in a very long time. Now if you don’t mind will you please shut up and fuck me?”

 

Merlin looks into Arthur’s eyes. The look Arthur gives him bears no more questions. This is one demand Merlin is happy to oblige. He flips them over and kisses Arthur gently before thrusting his tongue in Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur grinds against Merlin. “Merlin, please...I need you.”

 

Merlin wastes no more time. He sucks on two fingers and gently prepares Arthur. 

When Merlin finally enters him,Arthur gasps and Merlin pauses, but when Arthur moves back to take more of Merlin in, Merlin knows it’s safe to continue. He places a hand at the small of Arthur’s back to keep him from moving and slowly presses forward. 

 

Arthur is keening and clawing at the carpet. Every time Merlin pushes in he cries, “More.”

 

Finally Merlin can’t hold back and spreads Arthur’s cheeks as he begins to drive in with hard and deep thrusts. 

Arthur presses his forehead against the carpet and sighs.

After two more deep thrusts Merlin comes. Arthur comes just seconds later.

After a moment, Merlin pulls out. His come slowly trickles out of Arthur’s hole and he licks at it.

Merlin gets a wet paper towel and cleans them both up. He tries to pick Arthur off the floor but Arthur pulls him down instead. He wraps his arms around Merlin and Merlin rests his head against Arthur’s chest.

 

“Do you think I might possibly sleep all the way through the night?” Arthur asks as he trails his hand through Merlin’s hair.

 

Merlin frowns slightly. He wishes he could tell Arthur that everything was okay, but he knew that wouldn’t be right. He looks up at Arthur and gives him a crooked smile. “Probably not.”

 

Arthur nods. He doesn’t look as if he’s been defeated. “That’s okay. I know that as long as I wake up and you’re by my side, I’m going to be okay.” He holds Merlin tighter.

 

Merlin grins and kisses Arthur’s chest. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.” Arthur doesn’t say anything. Merlin peers up and sees Arthur is asleep. He has a huge smile on his face. 

**53.**

He waited until the castle was asleep, as he always did, before stealing his way into Merlin’s chambers. There, upon his downy bed, Merlin lay deep in slumber, still clothed in the plain garments he insisted on wearing though his station had improved long ago. A candle sputtered on the table in the corner next to a pile of books. Another small tome was opened on the bed, just beyond the reach of Merlin’s lax fingers. 

Arthur snorted. Merlin had been studying again and had probably exhausted himself. As court sorcerer and royal physician, now that Gaius was gone, he’d been busy trying to find a cure for the latest plague: a terrible ailment that had swept through the lower town and now threatened the Kingdom at large. After all these years he was still very much Merlin, however, falling asleep on the job. 

Arthur crept closer and sat next to Merlin on the bed. Streaks of grey at his temple and fine lines around his eyes made Merlin’s face even more handsome and distinguished than he’d been when they’d first met. As if aware of Arthur’s presence, he shifted and turned to his side. 

“Hello, Merlin.” Arthur petted back the greying hair and rested a hand on Merlin’s chest, just over his heart. 

“Mmmph.” Merlin mumbled and moved closer to Arthur. 

Merlin’s breathing quickened, and his face flushed slightly. For a moment, Arthur worried he may have caught the pestilence, but then he noticed the substantial tent in Merlin’s trousers. He must have been having an interesting dream, indeed. 

Even though he probably shouldn’t, Arthur stretched out alongside Merlin, so that they were hip to hip. Merlin’s aroused length strained against the fabric, and slowly, so slowly, Arthur reached between them and stroked, feeling pleased when Merlin whimpered and moved his hips. A rush of life warmed Arthur’s chest. He nuzzled closer and breathed in Merlin’s scent, and then stroked him again.

When they were young, Arthur had longed for this often. He told himself then that duty and honor forbade it, but now he could admit it had been his own fear holding him back. He didn’t have that fear anymore, so when Merlin’s lips parted, Arthur wasn’t afraid to lean forward and brush them with his own. He rubbed the ridge of Merlin’s manhood through his linen trousers and wished—oh, how he wished!—that there was nothing between them at all. What he would do then. He would press his lips against the heated flesh and let his tongue trail down to the coarse hairs below. And when Merlin shuddered and released, he would kiss the dampness away. 

Merlin’s face grew pained. He let out another whimper, a frustrated sound, and clawed at the front of his breeches. Arthur held him tighter, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He whispered soothing things, but Merlin continued to undulate his hips and pull at his laces until they loosened. Freed from its restraints, his aroused prick jutted against Arthur’s thigh. 

Arthur stared at it, longing to taste it, to bring Merlin the pleasure he deserved. He watched as Merlin took himself in hand and rubbed, uncoordinated in sleep, panting out his need and desire, and yet he could do nothing. Merlin shivered as he released onto the bedclothes, and Arthur held him, and he wished he could say all of the things he’d never been able to say. 

He wished he could say he had been here, always, even though Merlin had long believed the spell he’d hastily uttered on the banks of the lake had been a failure. An impulse borne of grief and desperation, it had drawn Arthur’s spirit back from the brink and tied him to Merlin even as the bier carried his body to Avalon. But if Merlin knew, he would hate himself for robbing Arthur of his rest, and Arthur would never get him to understand that he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, even if the touches he could offer were no more substantial than a breeze. 

Sometimes, though, he was sure Merlin could hear him. “There, love, that’s it,” he whispered as Merlin’s face softened and relaxed. His hand fell away from his spent cock. “Sleep now.” 

He would stay here, proud of the Kingdom he’d founded—and that Merlin had protected and nurtured with his magic. He would stay and watch over Merlin until he, too, joined Arthur in his final rest.

**54.**

Elena’s fingers whitened against the counter when he slid inside, slowly spreading her open around his cock. It was almost too much to take, bordering on painful in a way that made her gasp for breath. She fogged up the bathroom mirror as she clenched around him, the sheer size of him making it feel like she was being touched in places no one had ever touched her before.

The conversation that carried on outside the bathroom seemed to be about footie and she nearly laughed at how she’d never cared less about Chelsea and Mourinho in her entire life. But the sound got stuck in her throat as he – Percy – dug his hands into her hips and moved.

He moved. Which meant that his giant cock filled her up until she felt the pulses of pleasure in her toes. Crying out, she pushed herself back on him, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he fucked her boneless.

Part of her wanted to rip the condom off and feel him fill her up as he came, but that was against the rules and she would always obey the rules, no matter what. Even if she was being fucked so good she could barely think straight.

She couldn’t stop looking at the picture they made in the mirror, his face slack as he looked down between them and her breasts bouncing every time he hit that spot that made her skin feel like fire.

He braced himself against the sink and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, angling her hips into his thrusts until all she could focus on was the slide of him and his breath against her neck. She hunched forwards, whining sharply as she started shaking apart.

****

Pulling her shirt over her head, she stepped closer to the bed and toed out of her shoes. The covers were cool against her heated skin as she slipped under them, her hands finding sleep-warm skin. She hooked her arm around his waist, snuggling against his back.

He stirred, breath no longer shallow with sleep. Pulling back, she let him turn toward her, giving her a sleepy smile.

“Had fun?” Gwaine asked, voice deep and scratchy like it always was after he woke up.

“When isn’t Freya’s fun? Vivian was hammered beyond belief.” She rested her head against the pillow.

He hummed, his hand resting at her waist before sliding down over the curve of her hips, thumb rubbing circles on her thigh.

“Did you find anyone?”

She met his eyes and nodded, biting down on her lip. “Freya’s colleague. He was... " She paused. “Huge.”

Gwaine’s lips quirked, his hand moving between her legs. His fingers brushed over her folds where she was still wet and used. “Did he fuck you good?”

“Yeah.” She smiled against the pillow, cheeks flushing a little. “In the bathroom, in front of the mirror.”

She gave a strangled moan, muscles tensing a little, as Gwaine slipped two fingers into her.

“Did you let him fuck you bare? Come inside you?”

Leaning forwards, their breaths mingling, she shook her head. “You know I didn’t.”

He took her lips in a bruising kiss, tongue hot and demanding. Melting into him, fingers curling around his bicep, her hips pushed into his touch. She rocked on his fingers until a shiver ran down her back.

“Yeah, that’s only for me,” he said, breath hot on her lips. “He probably wanted to feel you, fill you with his come, but he can’t.”

She hummed, smiling. Even if their relationship was an open one, she loved that it was possessive too. That there were things that belonged only to them even if Gwaine regularly fucked Morgana over the desk at his office – even if Mithian licked her until she screamed. Some things were only theirs, and would always be theirs.

When Gwaine’s cock pushed into her without warning, she threw her head back and moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Did he make you feel good?” He whispered in her ear as he fucked her, thrusts deep and steady, into the bed - their bed, their space. 

Remembering the feeling of Percy spreading her open on his cock, fucking her against the mirror, she nodded, breath shaky.

“Good.”

Gwaine nuzzled against her cheek as he came, filling her with his come, her heart thudding in her chest. Her orgasm was more like a breeze than a storm, leaving her content and warm when she curled up against his chest.

**55.**

Merlin wakes with a start, the sound of an explosion flooding his senses as well as a deep pressure on his groin area. He blearily blinks his eyes open and, as soon as he comes to himself, he realises he’s fucking fallen asleep whilst on his date with Arthur. He’s never been a fanatic of movies; he prefers reading, but that’s so fucking embarrassing nonetheless that he doesn’t even want to move so as not to draw attention to himself. He doesn't know what Arthur’s going to think of him now, Merlin doesn’t want Arthur thinking he’s uninterested in him, god, he’s been wanting to have a chance with Arthur for ages, he can’t believe he’s fucking up now.

He sneaks a quick glance towards Arthur, who has his eyes glued to the large cinema screen, but his focus is elsewhere though. It’s only then that Merlin realises Arthur is fucking palming his cock through his jeans and he’s getting hard. 

He takes a deep breath, squirming slightly on his seat now as Arthur’s hand cups him and strokes intently, sending a thrill down his spine. Obviously Arthur is paying as little attention to the movie as Merlin is, for which Merlin feels glad, and apparently he’s got other plans to spend the time they are here in if the gentle rub of his hand back and forth is anything to go by. 

When it starts to get a bit unbearable and he just wants to fuck his hips to Arthur’s hand to feel more of the heat of it, he turns his face to his shoulder and lets out a shaky breath, looking at Arthur through half-lidded eyes and whispering, “Arthur.”

Arthur moves his head sideways to look at him in the eye in the darkness and then, somehow, manages to undo the button of Merlin’s jeans and pull the zip down so he can get his hand inside. 

Merlin can’t help feeling very aware of where they are and that there’s people around them, even if the room is pretty empty. He thinks he’s going to slip from the seat and onto the floor when Arthur’s fingers wrap around his dick, so he grabs at Arthur’s arm hard and bites his bottom lip to stop himself from doing any sort of embarrassing noise. 

“I can’t believe you were falling asleep,” Arthur says, leaning in closer to brush his lips over the shell of Merlin’s ear. “You chose the movie.”

 _Shit_ , Merlin thinks, _shit_. Of course Arthur would’ve noticed. “I wasn’t,” he tells him, trying to deny it. “I was just, um,” he breathes hard. “fuck. Um, resting my eyes for a second.”

Arthur hums, and then _squeezes_. 

“Shit, Arthur,” he says, louder than he had intended.

A girl in the row behind theirs makes a hushing noise at them, but Arthur ignores her and only shifts closer so their faces are almost touching. “You’re so wet,” Arthur murmurs. 

Merlin wants to roll his eyes but it’s too much hard work right now. “Not a girl, y’know.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna come in my pants so . . . you could - stop. Like, now.” 

Arthur chuckles softly against his ear and the girls behind them make impatient noises. 

“I can stop,” Arthur whispers. “But only if we leave right now and continue this at my place.”

Merlin can’t say he’s not excited, and he doesn’t want to seem desperate; only he _is_ , so he closes the distance between them and slots his lips over Arthur’s, who responds immediately, licking slowly his way inside Merlin’s mouth until Merlin feels like he’s going to melt right there. 

When they pull back, Merlin smiles and with a huge grin, says, “Deal.”

**56.**

Morgana didn’t remember falling into bed. The drive home was fuzzy, and everything after they reached her door was completely blank. She should have been disoriented and confused when she woke in Arthur’s arms, but she felt too good to let it bother her. She’d fended off the hangover by matching each drink with a glass of water, and the sun was only a pink and orange dab against the gray dawn. Arthur had one arm around her and she had her head on his shoulder. Technically, it wasn’t the first time she shared a bed with Arthur, but it was the first time since they were eight or nine. 

She knew she should pull away from him, but he was warm and firm and her body fit so nicely against his. She couldn’t bring herself to move or even nudge his arm from where it locked over her shoulders. She nuzzled in closer, inhaling the scent of beer and aftershave, sleep and sweat. She didn’t mean to disturb him, but his eyes fluttered open. He regarded her for a long beat, then reached up and brushed the heavy curtain of hair away from her face. 

Morgana tried to wish him a good morning, but something about the way he looked at her stilled her tongue. Gradually, she became aware that he was hard, and instead of being horrified by lying beside her brother’s erect penis, she felt a responsive stir between her legs. Why had he ended up in bed with her the night before? Why was he looking at her like that now? 

Without a word, he pulled her over onto him, the ridge of his cock against her damp panties. He pushed his hand between them, his fingers fumbling with the material until it disappeared, and they were skin against skin. 

Morgana stared down at him, her breath caught in her throat. She was slick, ready for him. She wasn’t stopping him. Not even when she felt the nudge of his crown against her folds. All she had to do was shift her weight, and she did. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, with the tequila still swimming through her system and the new morning sun shining in her eyes. 

She moaned, the sound lost in a hard kiss as he filled her. Maybe this was a dream. It felt like a dream. She was weightless, bodiless, floating above everything as he lifted his hips, thrusting into her with each breath. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders, getting drunk again from the whiskey fumes on his breath. 

When she woke up again, her legs were tangled around his and the blanket covered their bare skin. She was still on top of him, and his hand was flowing over the waves of her hair and down her spine. 

“We can pretend it was all a dream,” Arthur offered. 

Morgana shook her head. Her dreams always turned into nightmares. She wanted this to be sweet forever. 

**57.**

Gwaine whistled aimlessly as he guided his horse down the trail on the way back to Camelot. Or, rather, the horse guided itself, for which Gwaine was grateful. With a few pints already in his belly and plenty of time on his hands he wasn’t overly concerned about his current condition, just that a fine pub sat on the very edge of town and he would be most welcome. He could toss back as many pints as he wanted and bed all the ladies he desired and maybe even a bloke or two if he wished. Cheery thought, that.

It was most unfortunate that he had all these plans going through his head instead of paying attention when the horse misstepped. It fought to recover itself but Gwaine jolted, knocking himself off balance as the horse scrambled for purchase on the rocky trail. His foot slipped from the stirrup and, careening wildly, he fell off the horse and tumbled down the hill, branches smacking and tearing at his face and hands as he tried vainly to grab hold. 

He hit with a thump against a tree and unfortunately with his head, knocking himself out cold. Also unfortunately, he was seen by the last person he would’ve wished to find him.

But then, that had been her plan all along.

***

“Drink this.”

Gwaine winced as his head was lifted and a cup of warm something, was pressed to his lips. He was laid back against soft pillows. It was then he realized he was in a bed. He also realized he was naked, and tied down. And, a woman with long blonde hair stared down at him. 

Morgause. 

Gwaine fought against his bindings but it was no use. He fell back against the bed. “What do you want?” 

“You.” Her hand trailed up his bare thigh, brushed against his cock. It twitched in response, betraying his anger. “Surely you aren’t afraid?”

“Witch.”

“You’re no innocent yourself.” She leaned over him. “All I need is you, just once.” She smirked. “Surely that would be enough for a man of your reputed prowess?”

“For what?”

“To get me with child, of course.”

He barked out in laughter. “Not in your dreams.”

“But we’re in yours.” 

She slid her cloak off. She was naked underneath, her body golden, perfect. Her breasts were round and full, the blonde patch between her legs beckoning. He smelled lavender as she drew closer to him, then realized it was entwined in her hair. He gulped, his body responding despite the fierce tugs against his bonds. He bucked against them but she grabbed his cock in a firm, knowing grip, silencing him as she stroked him, making him harden. 

He closed his eyes, gasping as she slid on top of him, taking him into her hot, wet folds. She moved on top of him, encouraging him to move with her and he found himself responding. He couldn’t stop himself, the tethers around his wrists fell free and he gripped her by the hips, grinding her onto him, then reaching up to cover her breasts with his hands, pinching her nipples and making her cry out. She dropped her head back, her body hotter than fire as she consumed him, coming as she cried out again. He lost it then, pulling her close to pound relentless into her until he too came. They rode the waves together, all the while _you fool, this is witchcraft_ raced through his head.

“It is done.”

He fell back into the pillows, exhausting, his head swimming and the smell of lavender surrounding him.

***

“Hit his head pretty hard, didn’t he.”

“He must’ve been out for at least a day.

“Wake up, Gwaine. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Percival. And Merlin? Gwaine tried to think. His head pounding, he opened his eyes to look into his friends’ faces. It was then he realized he was at the bottom of the hill. 

He looked down at himself. “I’m not naked.”

Merlin laughed. “Not hardly. What happened?”

Gwaine shook his head. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. “Fell down the hill and hit my head. I was asleep. That’s all.”

Percival held his hand out. Gwaine let him pull him to his feet. Morgause hadn’t taken him captive, hadn’t stolen his seed. It’d all been a dream, nothing more. 

He almost believed it, but for the single lavender twig he then pulled from his hair. 

**58 >**

_"Merlin's drunk," Arthur had said, sheepish. "Could you drive him back?"_

Uther could. Merlin - the smart-mouthed, quick-witted Merlin, who always followed Arthur around with a dedication worthy of a better cause - was now quiet and soft and pliant. He let Arthur maneuver him into the passenger seat, giggling softly into his shoulder but otherwise saying nothing.

Uther watched the proceedings, waiting patiently for Arthur to fasten Merlin's seatbelt. Arthur leaned over his friend to whisper something, too quiet for Uther to catch. They were very close, and for a moment he wondered...

Arthur straightened.

"That's the best I can do," he said. "Merlin, behave."

"Mhmm," Merlin said, his eyes already closed.

He was fast asleep by the time they made it out of the city centre. The road was empty and the light was sparse, periodically casting Merlin's features in a sharp, yellow glow, only to fade again.

It struck Uther just how attractive Merlin was while he slept like that, instead of scowling in Arthur's general direction. He had sharp cheekbones, long and dark eyelashes and the shape and colour of his mouth would lead a straight man to doubt his resolve.

He looked peaceful, relaxed. Inviting--

Uther hit the breaks, narrowly avoiding crashing into the car before them that stopped at the red lights. 

He was stressed out and overworked. He had been alone for too long. He will not, _would not_ take out his frustrations on a sleeping schoolboy.

Merlin chose that moment to stir, setting himself more comfortably in the luxurious leather seat. He ran his tongue over his lower lip - his small, pink tongue - and sighed. Whatever it was he was dreaming about must have been pleasant, because his lips stretched into a faint, private smile. 

The lights changed. Uther drove on.

They left the city behind and ended up following a narrow country road, dark and silent and deserted. Uther tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept his gaze straight ahead but it was a lost cause. He was already hard.

He didn't know what, exactly, was going on between his son and Merlin. Some days he was sure they were sleeping together; others, their relationship seemed wholesome and platonic.

He wondered if Merlin even liked men. If he liked Arthur.

The cottage came into view and Uther parked the car in front of it. All the windows were dark - either Merlin's mother wasn't home, or she was already asleep.

He should wake Merlin up. He _should_. But he didn't move, watching Merlin's face in semi-darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing.

What made him reach out, Uther didn't know. His intention was to shake Merlin awake. But he was shocked to discover how soft Merlin's skin was, how warm to the touch; soon he was running his fingers over Merlin's face, tracing his cheekbones and drinking in the sight of his lush lips.

Before he could stop himself, he was leaning in. He was close enough to smell the alcohol on Merlin's breath. The leather seat creaked when he moved, and he was afraid the sound would startle Merlin awake.

He needn't have worried. Merlin was still unconscious, his face small and delicate in Uther's hands.

Oh, what he would give to have Merlin properly, in his own bed; how much he could teach him; how lovely Merlin would look beneath him, or on his knees, Uther's cock fucking into his pretty mouth, the boy whimpering and begging for more; how wonderful it would be to see him sleep tangled in white sheets, to spread his legs and push into him, make it the first thing he feels when he wakes, hard cock between his legs and hot come spilling on his thighs...

He was jerking off like a teenager, one hand cupping Merlin's cheek, mouth ghosting over his lips, planting soft kisses there. His breathing was shallow and laboured, his wrist cramping, unused to the angle or the urgency.

When he built up to his climax he was kissing Merlin full on the mouth, the boy unresponsive but wonderfully soft. Uther was sprawled basically on top of him, his cock aching. He came harder than he did in ages, loosing himself in pleasure.

He heard Merlin whisper something when he was drawing back; he looked down, on his own filthy hand, his cock softening in its grip; and was, for a second, horror-struck.

He cleaned himself up and woke Merlin. Merlin was groggy, his steps hesitant, but Uther didn't offer to help.

He drove away, pretending it was all a dream, a stupid fantasy. Pretending it wasn't Arthur's name he heard Merlin whisper; and that it wasn't jealousy he felt.

**59.**

Most of Merlin’s life has been spent waiting. Waiting to find his father, waiting for a prophecy to come true. Waiting for Arthur to wake.

*

At first Merlin thought Arthur had died in battle. His breathing had stopped, his skin gone pale and cold, but faintly Merlin could feel Arthur’s heart beat. He sat with Arthur, crying at the edge of the lake for days. There was no change in Arthur’s condition.

After a while Merlin returns to Camelot to see how his friends have fared. He finds Gwen on the throne, strong as ever. He lays Arthur below the castle, keeping him close and safe.

He researches for a cure, but Gaius’s books hold no answers. There’s a vague mention of a sleeping curse resembling Arthur’s happening decades ago. It’s only a few kingdoms over, so Merlin decides to travel there in hopes that he can learn more. It hurts to leave Arthur alone, but he needs to save him. The search yields no results. Merlin has never been so frustrated and heartsick.

*

Centuries pass with no change.

Merlin works for a medical researcher now, still hoping for a cure. He lives just outside of the city on a small farm. Arthur rests in the bedroom across the hall on an ornate table Merlin purchased specifically for him. He almost looks alive lying there – skin a bit paler than is healthy, but his hair is still golden.

Merlin visits him every morning when he gets up for the day, every night when he gets home from work. He strokes his hair, touches his cheek, his lips.

It’s almost like those tales of sleeping princesses, though in this case a kiss does not wake Arthur. Merlin tries countless times to no avail. After his last unsuccessful attempt, he thinks maybe it’s because while he and Arthur had love and shared love, maybe he was not Arthur’s True Love. The thought makes his heart clench and his lungs burn for breath.

*

Merlin remembers the time he and Arthur shared while Prince and Manservant – the heated looks and casual touches giving way to nights spent in Arthur’s bed laughing, teasing, enjoying each other’s bodies. He thinks of those nights now looking at Arthur’s still beautiful face. The first time Merlin got on his knees for Arthur. The first time Arthur did the same. The first time they joined in a rough embrace.

He reaches down to palm himself at the memory. The way Arthur had undressed him slowly at first, then quickly, desperately. He had prepared Merlin with great care though his movements were unpracticed and clumsy at times. He had slicked himself up when Merlin began to whine and plead to be taken.

Merlin feels that desperate now, grinding his hand against his cock, hoping to find some relief. He comes remembering the way Arthur smelled, the way he tasted. He’s desperate to have him again.

He looks at Arthur’s face again, still there’s no change.

So Merlin will continue to wait.

**60.**

Hunith is dreaming, of that she is sure. 

A man comes to her bedside – but not a man, something about his face is different, indistinct, not normal. She doesn't find this disturbing, possibly, she thinks, because its a dream. 

The man pulls the cover from on top of her, and she gets gooseflesh from the chill air. The man moves and sits on her. She can't move her arms or her legs. Hunith takes a deep breath, and even that is difficult, it hitches on the way in. 

The man strokes her face once, and she slows her breathing in response. 

Her skirts are pushed up and she blushes, unused to being on display. The man kisses her, breath hot against her lips. 

The man slips between her legs, which move without her permission. She hitches another breath. 

The man says something. Hunith doesn't understand it but it soothes her.

He uses his fingers, presses into her sex and gets her wet before slipping into her. He groans, guttural as he starts to move in her. The angle is awkward, and it feels uncomfortable. Hunith tries to move, but she can't – she's still stuck, pinned by invisible hands. She is afraid now; the man's face becomes less human, but the look of lust contorting his face is unmistakable.

She wants to move, to have some control, something and she can't. She tries to shout, but her mouth refuses to open. The man says something again, and Hunith finds her vision clouding, the images drifting away from her. 

**

She wakes the next morning. The dream is still at the edges of her mind. It's the scariest dream she's ever had but she pushes it out of her mind. It doesn't do to dwell, not on things that aren't real. Besides, she's got bread to bake. 

Hunith doesn't think any more of it until she finds herself with child, and no father in sight. The villagers look at her and whisper. She packs up her things and loads up a horse. 

She stops at a small village and visits the local healer. Hunith whispers her story, and the old woman looks at her with clouded eyes. The woman takes Hunith's hands in her own, rubbing, thumbs over the lines of Hunith's palms. 

“Do not worry, my child. This is destiny, and you will cope, and it will be for the good of all.” 

The healer refuses to say more, and Hunith moves on, thinking that the healer has spent too long in the tavern. She stops outside the church, wondering if she needs the words of a holy man. The cloudy sky finally breaks, rain falling in large drops. Hunith decides to find shelter for the night instead.

Ealdor welcomes her with open arms. They assume the worst happened to the father, and she doesn't correct them. 

She gives birth to a beautiful baby boy, calls him Merlin. He's in his fifth summer when he makes a fire using only his mind and a gold flash of his eyes. Hunith is shocked, falls to her knees next to him. 

Merlin looks up at her, half-questioning, half-afraid. Hunith pulls him into a hug, and remembers her dream. 

**61.**

"You what?"

Gwaine laughed at Merlin's expression. "Don't go all over red, now. I got the idea from Lancelot, and you know how straight-laced he is."

"Lancelot?" Merlin squeaked.

"Yeah." Gwaine spread his legs and leaned back in his chair, idly scratching the inside of his thigh. "Said he likes Elena to plug him up before bed, then when he wakes up with morning wood, she and Freya ride him one after another 'til he can't take it anymore and goes off like a rocket."

"Freya? She's just rooming with them while her mum..."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" Merlin put his face in his hands. "We've been mates since we were _twelve_. How am I the last to know?"

"For a fellow in a four-way with three of my hottest friends, you really are dense."

"I really am," Merlin agreed.

-+-

When Merlin got home, Morgana was holding an unlit cigarette between two fingers and glaring at a box of patches. Merlin decided not to invoke Gwen's name unless it got dire.

"So," he said, aiming for nonchalant. Morgana's eyes immediately flicked to his, assessing in a way that made his insides squirm.

"Never mind!" he beat a hasty retreat into the second bedroom.

-+-

Morgana watched Merlin scamper off, then unlocked her phone.

"Gwaine. What new perversion did you tell Merlin?"

-+-

Gwen liked shopping with Morgana. Especially when it involved presents.

"And Arthur agreed?" she asked, tucking her arm into Morgana's.

Morgana smiled, all teeth. "It _is_ Merlin's birthday on Saturday, after all."

"Meaning Arthur wanted to but needed an excuse."

Morgana smiled and pointed to one shelf of the sex shop. "I suggest we start small."

-+-

Friday night, Arthur wobbled into the bedroom already in his boxers and crawled between Gwen and Merlin. Merlin pulled his head briefly out from under the pillow, but he was so blissed out from one of Gwen's magic blowjobs that he couldn't focus.

"Arthur?"

"It's nothing. Go to sleep."

Merlin did, drifting off so quickly he barely even noticed when Morgana slipped into bed a few minutes later and twined her legs with his.

Throughout the night, though, Merlin noticed that Arthur woke often, and even when he was sleeping his body was restless, bumping into Merlin on one side and Gwen on the other, twisting and rolling like he wanted to fuck the bed. His full cock, not stiff but swollen, rubbed up against any part of Merlin he could reach, and if Merlin weren't so tired from a ridiculously long week, he would have woken Arthur up and demanded they do something about it.

But instead, he rolled over and offered his arse for Arthur to rub against in his sleep.

-+-

Morning. Bright light filtered through the curtains, and Merlin groaned and rolled over. His groan was echoed by Arthur, rasping and deep. Merlin rubbed sleep from his eyes and blinked, staring.

Arthur was sporting a deep red erection, verging on purple at the head, and his whole body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He lay on his back, clutching his cock, his eyes shut and a look of pained bliss on his face.

Merlin tried to breathe through a sudden rush of blood south.

"Good morning," Gwen said from Arthur's other side, her tone deep with laughter and desire. "Need a hand there, Arthur?"

"Guinevere," he moaned, and she took pity on him, rolling up to kneel on either side of his hips. Morgana tossed her a condom, and she rolled it on Arthur one-handed, using her other hand to push her sleep-shirt (one of Merlin's, actually) up high enough that she could sink right down on him. They both shuddered, and Merlin whimpered at the sight.

"Did you... all night?" Merlin asked hoarsely.

"What do you think?" Arthur snapped, then groaned as Gwen twisted her hips on a downstroke. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, mesmerizing.

Merlin felt sweat blossom on his skin as he imagined Arthur letting Morgana put in the plug last night, then staggering to bed with it wedged up inside him, how he must have driven himself half-crazy as he rolled around in his sleep.

Morgana pressed up behind Merlin and hummed softly, squeezing a handful of Merlin's arse, then tracing his hole lightly with a finger.

"Think you'd like to try tonight?" she asked.

" _Yes_ ," Merlin breathed, as he watched Arthur arch and bellow and come and come and come, Gwen still riding him hard.

**62.**

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin whispers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur murmurs into Merlin’s ear, guiding his hand under the waistband of Merlin’s pyjama pants. 

“Stop it,” Merlin hisses. “Gwaine’s here.”

“Gwaine’s sleeping in the living room.”

He trails a line of kisses over Merlin’s shoulder.

“We live in a loft. There are no walls between here and living area.” 

Merlin tries to wriggle free, but Arthur shoves his hand fully inside Merlin’s pyjamas and starts stroking Merlin’s cock. 

“You just need to be very quiet,” he whispers.

“Arthur…” Merlin starts, knowing too well he won’t be able to resist, not with the hand moving right how he likes it, driving him mad mere seconds after the first touch.

“Hush, love,” Arthur whispers. “You can’t stop doing all these noises. You need help, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for Merlin’s answer and reaches under the bed. Merlin’s pulse quickens. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Merlin whispers, last attempt at sensible thinking.

Smooth fabric teases his lips and Merlin opens up automatically.

“Good boy,” Arthur murmurs, putting the gag in place. 

He pulls Merlin’s pants and T-shirt off, pushing Merlin to lie on his back. Licking a trail down Merlin’s body, he sucks the head of Merlin’s cock into his mouth, Merlin’s hips arching of the bed.

Pushing him back down, he nudges Merlin’s legs apart, massaging around Merlin’s opening, his fingers wet with lube. He sinks two fingers in, fucking Merlin with steady strokes, aiming precisely for the sensitive bundle of nerves. Merlin reaches for his cock, but Arthur bats his hand away. 

“Nothing like that,” he whispers and fastens cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, tying each one of them to a bedpost.

He drags something cold over Merlin’s stomach. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, bucking up when Arthur fills his hole with the cold object. His favourite dildo, Merlin realizes. He’s breathing through his nose, eyes clenched shut, riding on the waves of pleasure, when he hears the creak of a sofa followed by a sound of footsteps. He stops moving, holding his breath. 

The door to the bathroom creaks and clicks shut. Arthur speeds up his movements. 

“You were worried he’d come here, weren’t you? He’d see you like this, helpless, completely at my mercy.”

Merlin swallows a whine that threatens to escape his throat.

Arthur slows down his tempo during Gwaine’s return. Merlin’s close, so close. He needs just a little push.

“Not yet,” Arthur whispers, recognizing the distinct pre-orgasmic breathing pattern.

Merlin thrusts his hips up in pointless attempt to gain some friction.

“Maybe I should just ask Gwaine to come up here and watch.”

Merlin’s rhythm stutters as he tries to fuck himself on the now motionless dildo in Arthur’s hand.

“Hmm… You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Arthur murmurs.

Merlin bites harder into the gag, throwing his head back to stop himself from begging.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.”

Merlin doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of the dildo before Arthur is pushing inside, all the way in in one smooth thrust. Hitting Merlin’s prostate over and over, Merlin can’t stop the small muffled moans from spilling past his lips. His belly is sticky with pre-come, sweat covering every inch of his body. 

“Come,” Arthur says.

Merlin closes his eyes and tightens his muscles around Arthur’s cock. He wants to obey, but it’s not enough.

“Don’t. You. Understand?” Arthur whispers, accentuating each word with a particularly hard, precisely aimed thrust. “Come!” he orders and Merlin loses it, coming hard.

 

oooxxxooo

 

Coming down from his own orgasm, Arthur collapses on top of Merlin’s pliant and blissed out form. He rolls off him after a moment and unties his bindings. They kiss lazily, Merlin’s eyes barely open.

“Okay?” Arthur asks.

“Okay,” Merlin says.

Arthur pulls him closer and murmurs his ‘good night.’

It’s completely quiet for a few seconds.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind watching next time,” Gwaine says.

**63.**

It had been a year since Arthur had come back and Merlin still couldn't sleep.

Not for lack of trying though. He had spent hours upon hours nestled up behind Arthur, willing his own eyes to close while he traced the line of his back and ribs. 

Sometimes Arthur would blink awake when Merlin ran his fingers over his jaw, fuzzy, and whisper, "Can't sleep?"

Merlin would just shake his head and Arthur would slide back into unconsciousness as Merlin stayed, as always, awake.

He was used to it by now. The last time he slept was in 1918, exhausted after using magic in the war. Sleep had grown less and less each night until finally he was just lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

He gave up after the first year, and finally wrote that book he always wanted to write, scribbling away in the gray hours of the early morning.

But when Arthur came back, everything changed.

Arthur was clearly normal, and perfectly human. He had laugh lines and bad knees. He could sleep up to 12 hours a night if Merlin let him.

Merlin gently ran his thumb over the curve of Arthur's eyelid, watching the air puff in and out of his bare chest. 

Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on the curve of Arthur's ribs, running his tongue along the ridge.

Arthur snuffled in his sleep and inched closer. Merlin chuckled and bit him gently, making Arthur squirm.

Merlin nosed his way downwards laying kisses down the side of Arthur's flat stomach before rubbing his nose over the thatch of hair in Arthur's groin. 

Arthur made a noise, but when Merlin looked up, he was still asleep, frowning slightly.

Smiling, Merlin bit him on the thigh, using his hand to coax Arthur's sleepy cock into it's full erect state.

Arthur was restless under his hands and mouth, but Merlin soothed him with gentle touches to his thigh. 

"Love," he traced into the soft skin of Arthur's inner thigh with his tongue. "Heart," and "Mine."

Arthur moaned a little when Merlin sucked the tip of his now hard cock into his mouth, running his tongue over the slit.

He was starting to wake up, Merlin realized when he looked up. Arthur's eyelids were fluttering and his thighs were tense.

Merlin sucked harder and sank down, making Arthur groan, and, finally, sleepily blink his eyes awake.

"God," Arthur mumbled sleepily. "You tart."

Merlin only gazed at him coyly from under his eyelashes, bobbing his head to make Arthur moan and curl his fingers into Merlin's hair, his hips making little thrusting motions.

Pressing down on Arthur's hips with one hand, Merlin reached back between Arthur's thighs to rub at his hole, soft and pressing, and Arthur made a strangled noise. His thighs tightened around Merlin as his orgasm swept through his body, cock pulsing come over Merlin's tongue. He swallowed, tongue soothing over the bottom of Arthur's cock.

"Hate you," Arthur gasped, still shuddering, and Merlin popped off with a grin.

"You love it," he said, and Arthur sat up to pull him into a messy kiss.

"Not when I miss half of it by sleeping," Arthur protested when they pulled apart panting. "Does watching me sleep really get that boring?"

"Quite the opposite," Merlin laughed. "Why do you think I always jump you?"

"Because you're a cockslut?" Arthur teased.

"Only for you," Merlin promised, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm, yes. Only for me," Arthur said, pulling him close for a kiss.

**64.**

Arthur tried to repress the constant thrumming in his chest. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s fun, but he couldn’t help but feel off balance. There he was, the object of all his affections, laughing and smiling with everyone. It was Merlin’s party, after all.

They might be a bit old for slumber parties—Arthur chastised himself, it was _not_ a slumber party, it was a let’s-take-my-uncle’s-house-borrowed-and-sleep-there-for-birthday’s-sake party. Or something like that, he was a bit lost in Merlin’s mouth to register his exact words. The thing was, is, that they’re going to sleep _together_ for one night. One night in which they’ll have plenty of booze and freedom. While Arthur supposed he should feel lucky about it, all it did was make his guts churn in anxiety. 

Merlin was a light drinker, they all knew that. Arthur was sure Gwaine would want to take advantage of that, and for that he hated him just a bit more—he didn’t miss the way Merlin always seemed to _shine_ whenever he looked at Gwaine, which always made Arthur mad with hurt and jealousy. 

His anxiety hadn’t worn down by the time they were there, drinks in hand and several bottles on the floor. Arthur was doomed—he couldn’t stop ogling at Merlin’s lower lip, at Merlin’s collarbones, at Merlin’s hands, at Merlin’s _everything_. He was sure he was being obvious, but his head was spinning a lot and he only wanted to taste the liquor on Merlin’s lips, really. 

Lance got in the way before he could, though. He didn’t kiss Merlin, just stood up wobbly and demanded to watch the Star Wars Saga with them all, because he was commissioned to bring them and he wasn’t about to let them all forget about it. They all groaned something that seemed to be affirmative in Lance’s ears and he went to put on the DVD. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and dragged him into the single sofa, sitting him on his lap. Merlin was so far gone he just giggled and complied, nuzzling his neck as he slotted his body with Arthur’s. 

There was a quick debate about watching them in filming order or sequence order. Arthur paid no mind, he was too awestruck to understand any words as his hands navigated through Merlin’s torso. He sighed happily, sinking deeper into Arthur’s arms and nipping at his earlobe. Arthur shuddered. 

Arthur dared look at his friends—they were all sprawled over each other on the couch, Gwaine napping already while Percy, Elyan and Lance got into a heated argument involving C-3PO and something about making Yoda’s philosophy into an actual religion. Leon looked about to join Gwaine in the furthest end of the couch, and Mordred, Merlin’s cousin, was drinking orange juice at the kitchen counter. No one was looking at them.

Slowly, carefully, he moved his hands a little lower, toying with the elastic on Merlin’s pants while his friend gasped softly. His eyes were shining as he did the same, only he got all the way in, palming his already semi hard cock and giving it lazy strokes. 

“We should’ve borrowed a blanket,” he murmured against his neck, kissing it right afterwards. Arthur groaned and pushed his hand all the way inside Merlin’s pants, searching for Merlin’s dick and finding it hard already. He smiled smugly and Merlin punched him lightly on the arm, closing his other hand around his cock and tugging more. 

Arthur wanted to look at his friends. He really wanted to. He was just lost in the way Merlin parted his lips when he tugged hard enough, the way his body shook a little and how his free hand looked for his, entwining their fingers. It wasn’t a vicious, desperate thing. They were going slow, lazy even, Arthur running his thumb over the head of Merlin’s dick and pressing gently at the tip, Merlin lapping at every bit of skin on his neck while he drummed his fingers playfully over Arthur’s balls. It was nice. 

He realized he was falling asleep when Merlin’s laughter reached his ears. “How can you fall asleep now?” he asked playfully, taking a glance at his friends and finding them all snoring already. “You can’t be like them,” he stated, crossing a leg across his lap and pushing himself into a sitting position. 

“Kiss me,” he demanded, and God, he looked so _good_ , all disheveled hair, pouty lips and rosy cheeks. Arthur didn’t hesitate, diving in for the kiss he’d been wishing for a long time. It was nice, lazy as everything else, their tongues lapping unnecessarily at the other’s mouth. Merlin groaned, rocking his hips against Arthur’s a bit faster than the rhythm they’ve been going at, locking his arms behind his head, pressing their bodies more and more until the friction and the heat and _Merlin_ was too much that Arthur exploded, stars blooming his line of vision.

Merlin followed suit, collapsing in his arms. Arthur really wanted a blanket now—he didn’t care about the mess in his pants, or if they woke someone up. He just wanted to stay like this, cradling Merlin in his arms until they fell asleep, lightsabers echoing in the background.

**65.**

Arthur woke up in pain. Not the bad, oh-god-that-was-a-bad-idea kind of pain, more the good oh-hell-yes-I-didn’t-half-get-laid-last-night kind of pain. His thighs were sore and felt close to cramping, his jaw ached from being held open, patches of his throat were tender from teeth and he could feel the sharp lines of heat down his back that meant that Merlin drew blood again.

He tried to stretch without falling off the bed or disturbing the body next to him and grinned as, glancing across the bed, he remembered why last night had been particularly… vigorous. He reached across and touched Gwaine’s arm where it was slung carelessly across Merlin’s back. Neither man moved, but Arthur’s morning wood started to show interest. He loved when Merlin slept on his front – it gave him such a good view to wake up to.

Arthur started to trail his hand up and down Merlin’s back, revelling in the feel of Merlin’s velvet-soft skin. He allowed his fingers to wander slightly further with each pass, encompassing relaxed shoulder muscle and the rise of buttock that Arthur could barely tear his eyes away from.

Arthur’s hand started – seemingly, he would later claim, of its own accord – to make itself at home on Merlin’s arse: smoothing, kneading, squeezing the flesh, marvelling at how one buttock fit perfectly in his hand. He stroked a single finger down Merlin’s crack and shuddered as he found that he was still open, wet and – oh dear god – _loose_ from the night before.

Without even thinking Arthur slipped a finger inside and had to close his eyes at the ease with which it slid in – seeming to barely touch the sides. He pressed a second finger in alongside the first, starting to thrust them slowly and gently in and out. He started as he felt something touch his hand, but let out a shaky breath – trying not to let it become a moan – as he looked up and saw that Gwaine had woken up and seemed to be joining in the fun.

Arthur stilled his hand to allow Gwaine to push his finger slowly, gently inside Merlin’s arse along with Arthur’s own. Arthur had woken Merlin like this a couple of times before, but never with someone else. He gently manoeuvred Merlin’s legs slightly wider apart with his free hand, then leant up on his elbow to kiss Gwaine softly on the lips. Gwaine started to add another finger and Arthur groaned – between them they now had four fingers inside Merlin, stretching and thrusting.

Arthur was unable to touch himself without coming down off his elbow and losing both his fantastic view and his vantage point from which to explore Gwaine’s mouth and Merlin’s back with his lips, tongue and teeth, so he settled for thrusting against the bedsheets, angling for as much friction as he could. Gwaine grinned as he saw Arthur’s increasingly desperate movements and started to do the same, biting Arthur’s bottom lip every time their faces were close enough together to distract from the extra finger he was adding to the hot, tight tangle of digits inside Merlin’s hole.

It was all too much for Arthur – he managed a few more thrusts against the mattress before he came, not like an explosion but like a waterfall of pleasure, moaning softly as his body seemed like it would melt into the bed. Gwaine suffered a similar fate – pulling his fingers out of Merlin, he gave his cock a couple of tugs before following Arthur over the edge.

The men smiled sheepishly at each other, breaths still heavy, and Arthur was trying to decide whether he wanted to lick Gwaine’s come off Merlin’s back or scoop it up and press it inside him when a voice came from further up the bed.

“Well, you’re not going to stop just as it's getting interesting, are you?”

**66.**

The room is bathed in gold when Arthur walks in, sheer yellow cloth hanging in intervals to hint at the people in the room. He walks in, his red cape trailing behind him, body shivering in anticipation. The floor is lined with deep red cushions except for the bed in the middle of the room covered in golden sheets. 

Arthur's steps echo off the stone walls as he makes his way past the two women kissing, their hands slipping underneath skirts. He can hear their moans mixing into the air, the scent of sex strong in his nose. Others just sit on their cushions, eyes cast down as Arthur walks past them. They are all beautiful, naked and waiting for him to chose them.

He loves the way the girls kneel at his feet, how the boys are half hard. There is one boy, a little thing with long brown hair and pale skin that whimpers when Arthur walks by. He smirks, lets his cape trail along the boy's skin until the boy is panting, his knees digging into the soft red cushion underneath him.

Arthur is their king and they come to him as he stands in the middle of the room, the bed behind him. His cape is heavy on his shoulder and he sits on the edge of the bed. The boys and girls curl by his feet, girls and boys begging for his attention. There is a girl with dark hair behind him, her fingers moving to undo the straps that keep his cape on his shoulders. Her hair smells of leaves and the earth, her mouth is warm against Arthur's ear.

"I am your king," he tells the room at large. "Please me."

They move so slow at first, their eyes downcast as though it hurts to look at Arthur. He watches the closest one, a boy with dark hair and plump lips. The boy is quick with his hands, long fingers practiced as he undoes the ties of Arthur's breeches. 

The girl with the dark hair presses up close behind Arthur, but he can't feel her warmth through the chainmail. She kisses up his neck, her fingers moving across his chest searching for a way to get him free, get him naked. Other hands are already there, someone already pushing Arthur to lie back on the bed.

He sinks into golden sheets, his skin sliding against the silken sheets, the air heavy with the pants of want. There's someone rubbing their face against the inside of Arthur's thighs, mouths on him, too much movement because the bed creaks. But Arthur doesn't say anything though he could, could snap at them for the noise, for breaking the thick sounds of sex.

The boy with the dark hair--and blue eyes now that Arthur can see him properly--leans over Arthur, his hands on Arthur's chest.

"May I," he whispers, voice hoarse. "Please, my lord."

Arthur stares, entranced by the pale skin, by the hands and mouths on him. "Please, what?" he asks.

The boy whimpers, a sound almost too low for Arthur to hear. "Will you fuck me?"

"No," Arthur says, his voice harsh enough that the others stop moving.

For a moment, the silence in the room is louder than the sound of skin against silk. Arthur almost swears he can hear their frightened heart beats. He tangles fingers in the curls of the dark skinned girl by his left side. She leans into his touch, her body relaxing against him. One by one, the others rub against him, skin against his aching cock, on his thighs.

"You can fuck yourself," Arthur tells the boy.

And he does. They all do. The boy sinks down on Arthur's cock even as hands stroke down Arthur's sides. They are there to please him, to bring him pleasure, to rock the bed until all Arthur hears is the steady beat of the headboard against the wall. The young boy above him cries out and Arthur takes hold of his hips, fucks up into that warm heat until they're both panting, both lost in hands and mouths, drowning in heat and the sounds of slipping sheets. 

He's beautiful, but then, they all are. Arthur's pets, his beautiful boys and girls. He loves them all, wants them all painted with his come and lying at his feet. He wants to wake up in the morning in his giant bed with all of them draped against him because they are his.

**67.**

Sometimes nightmares woke Merlin up in the middle of a night, and he desperately needed someone to be there for him. The dreams always had similar themes, and they were full of impossible things. 

Magical things.

Dragons and sorcerers, adventures and knights. All of them flashed through Merlin’s dreams as if they were real, as if he wasn’t dreaming about them but _remembering_ some other life that was long gone. The life he was dreaming wasn’t only full of magic and wonders though, but also of Merlin’s loved ones dying, and powers that were too great for him to fully control. It was a powerful life in a magical world, but a lonely one too. In the dreams, Merlin had the weight of a great destiny pushing him downwards and no one he could confide in.

It scared him. It shook him to his core. When he managed to pull himself awake he was sweating and shaky and not sure which world was the real one and which was just a creation of his imagination.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered half-awake. “What is it?”

And then Merlin couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He sobbed into his pillow and tried to turn, so his boyfriend couldn’t see him cry, but Arthur was having none of that. He pulled Merlin against his chest and murmured softly,

“Just a bad dream. Nothing else. Just a dream. You’re safe now.”

Still more asleep than awake, Arthur whispered soothing things and endearments into Merlin’s hair, and Merlin let his palms rest on Arthur’s chest. Arthur didn’t ask questions; he didn’t know how to talk about feelings and as a general rule preferred other methods of communication. Merlin pushed his nose against Arthur’s neck and gently kissed the pulse point. 

It was as well a thank you as a way to prove to himself that Arthur was there, well and alive, and none of the dreams were true.

Arthur was warm from sleep and still had his eyes closed, but he pulled Merlin into a kiss that grounded Merlin back to the present better than anything else had so far. Arthur’s lips were moist and pliant against his, and now Merlin knew exactly what he needed to be able to fall asleep again.

He moved his hands to push down Arthur’s boxers, and Arthur’s grip on his hips tightened a little. Merlin pushed his own pyjamas aside as well and wrapped his leg around Arthur’s hips.

It was a slow burn of arousal and emotions. The slow, lazy rhythm of hips, sounds of skin and hands and mouths touching the other body and pulling it closer, and the feelings of excitement and affection brought Merlin back to reality as the traces of his dream disappeared. Even placed against all the dragons, magic and mysteries of the world, Merlin would always choose the reality of this moment, the honesty of this world.

Arthur came first but didn’t let go of Merlin even after he had also reached his release. They lay there side by side, trying to catch their breaths, and just holding each other in their arms. It was a bad idea not to clean up before falling asleep, but in the aftermath of his orgasm he really didn’t care. He leaned his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone and hoped that this time his dreams would be more peaceful.

**68.**

No sooner had Arthur buried his nose in his soft pillows, then the covers were lifted, the mattress shifted, and a warm body moved into the space against to him. “Mmmmfff?” he queried, sleepily.

Merlin nuzzled against his ear. “So… how sleepy are you?” The soft growl of his voice was pure wickedness, his breath awakening a tingling along the skin of Arthur’s neck. “Too sleepy?”

Arthur stretched slowly, and yawned. “Never too sleepy for you.” He rolled to his side, lifting an arm so that Merlin could scoot in closer. His lips parted in a half-smile as Merlin kissed along them, mingling their breath. “I do not understand how I never saw this side of you before, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed softly and traced his hand down Arthur’s side, lingering at his hip. “Oh, I’m the same unfortunate manservant you always knew and loved, Arthur. I may have been restrained by the divide in our stations, but trust that every urge, every desire I express to you now, be assured I felt it even then.” He pulled Arthur against his hardness, playing with the sensations of their aroused bodies softly dragging against each other. “It’s a new age, Arthur. I’ve had millennium to think of all that I would say to you, all that I would offer to you, on the day you returned.”

Using his hands and his fingers, his mouth and his body, Merlin coaxed Arthur’s body to awaken and respond to him one more time, after a day in which they barely left the bedroom of Merlin’s Shoreditch flat. The bright lights of London stretched out beyond the glass of the window that covered an entire wall of Merlin’s room, casting a sheen of bright colour across Merlin’s ivory skin. Arthur opened to him, drinking in the touch he’d never allowed himself in his former life. When Merlin breached him, his body sore and aching from the connections they’d made in the hours since his awakening, Arthur arched beneath him, wrapping his legs tightly as if he could draw Merlin into him forever. 

Their completion took longer this time, their movements tender, less manic. Their initial urgency had spent, and now was the time for wonder, amazement that after centuries of Arthur’s endless sleep, they finally had this time together. Merlin rolled into him deeply, Arthur’s orgasm building slowly this time, an intense ball of pleasure growing and expanding deep in his groin. As if to make up for the slow pace, when minutes, hours later his pleasure finally peaked and crashed over him, it was with a prolonged, lingering intensity that spread through his body in waves, out to his extremities, even his scalp, his palms, the bottoms of his feet.  
Afterwards, he burrowed exhausted beneath his pillows as Merlin washed him, cleaning the sweat and residue of their lovemaking. Such tenderness and caring… such loyalty… Arthur’s thoughts drifted in relaxed contentment, lashes fluttering closed.

He was pulled from his drowse by fingers entwining with his, teasing teeth and tongue nibbling along the sensitive crease of his palm. His eyes blinked open, trying to focus, and Merlin’s visage swam into view, with an eyebrow raised, a painfully attractive smirk teasing the corner of his mouth. “So… sleepy? 

Arthur emitted a pained whimper. “Merlin. Love. I’m so happy to be here, I really am. Returned from endless slumber, and all that. But – even a prince has limits. You are bloody insatiable.”

Merlin looked stricken, for a second, then schooled his features to cheerful encouragement. “I could blow you? Again? If you just want to lie there. I wouldn't be offended. Just… please? I really, really need to touch you.”

Light dawned for Arthur. “Oh Merlin,” he cupped his lover’s face in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. “Is it... are you… afraid? Afraid to let me sleep?”

Merlin closed his eyes, for a moment. Nodded. “It’s – how can I know? If you sleep again – how can I know you’ll ever awaken? What if you return to your rest, what if I’m... if I’m alone again, for another thousand years?”

Arthur thought of his eternity, lying in state, lying in stone on the altar of Avalon. “Then you kiss me, Merlin. You kiss me and you bring me back. Every night of rest, you will wake me with your kiss. Promise me?”

Merlin sobbed back tears, nodded. Arthur pulled him into his arms, and held him as they both drifted off to sleep.

**69.**

Arthur tiptoed into Morgana’s room, expecting any second for her to shriek and throw something at him. He hoped she wouldn’t. She had nightmares too. He just didn’t want to be alone.

He paused at the edge of her bed, swallowing. He touched her shoulder, whispered, “ _Morgana._ ”

She didn’t rouse. Arthur didn’t want to go back to his dark chambers. The thought made panic climb the back of his throat and his eyes go hot. He shook her harder. Still she slept.

Arthur crawled into her bed and curled up as close to the far edge as he could. He woke alone, but his father never scolded him for a weakling, so he knew she never told.

###

Gaius gave her potions to help her sleep. The few times Arthur returned to her bed she never once stirred, though sometimes they did wake wrapped around each other.

One evening after she’d been particularly horrid to him, he snuck into her room and put her hand in a bowl of warm water. She beat him soundly with a quarterstaff the following day.

###

When he was fifteen he thought it would be funny to smear his come through her hair, let her wake to a sticky wad right near her face. He considered wanking in advance so he could wipe off and flee, but decided he didn’t want to risk _this_ being the one time she stirred when he touched her.

His balls tightened so fast, half of his come spilled over her pillow before he leaned forward and landed a good gob where he wanted it.

Heart racing, he’d hardly stuffed himself back in his breeches before he was running from her room.

In retaliation, she slipped one of her stays onto the seat of his chair at a feast, embarrassing him in front of the whole hall when he leapt up, yelping.

###

The next time he snuck into her room, he meant to paint thick eyebrows and a mustache on her face. But he found her in a wanton sprawl, one breast half exposed where her nightgown pulled down.

He came in his palm and, after a moment’s consideration, cleaned himself on the hem of his shirt.

###

He risked slipping a hand into her bodice the next time, gently squeezing and trying to choke back his gasps as he humped his fist, cockhead slippery and hot poking through the circle of his fingers.

###

She never woke. Even when he practised kissing her soft mouth. Even when he rutted against her arse.

Even when he squeezed his eyes shut tight, hunching helplessly and spilling the instant he’d fit himself in her cunt.

In a panic, he cleaned her up with his mouth, uncertain how else to hide the proof of his depravity. She groaned, shifting, and he almost pissed himself with fear.

He stopped visiting her for a full season, until the day a few of the older knights spoke of pleasing ladies with their tongues. Heat prickled through him in a sudden, tingling rush.

###

Over time, he found he preferred her on her belly, hips lifted so he could fuck down into the hot, tight grasp of her body. But carefully, always carefully — ever since the evening he’d overheard her complain to Gwen that she sometimes woke sore and didn’t know why.

He discovered that licking her before mounting made her soft and slick, which helped.

Once, after planting his first, eager batch of seed, he watched it slide out of her puffy pink lips and glaze her thighs. And he began to wonder if he could impregnate her this way. Gods — she’d be so confused, fattening with his child. He had to stick her again with his cock at the thought; feverish with shame, on fire with lust.

###

Merlin arrived in Camelot and Arthur marked the way his eyes followed Morgana. It made him jealous and protective at first, territorial.

Then Merlin saved Arthur’s life and Arthur’s opinion shifted. Merlin was a good sort. He deserved a reward.

The idiot hissed fearful protests the whole way to Morgana’s rooms, twitching at every noise. He choked, shocked, when he realised what Arthur meant to do. Then he quieted.

In the dark, the bed squeaked and Arthur grunted and Morgana’s cunt made sucking, mouthing noises around his dick. When he slumped to the side, satisfied, Merlin was waiting behind him — his hands already busy at the ties of his breeches.

Arthur grinned, settling back to watch.

**70.**

Arthur's days begin and end with Merlin now, high in his tiny garret, perched above the rooftops of Paris. Steep-pitched ceilings over a wrought-iron bed, a single table and an oil lamp tucked in close, and beyond the window, the city spread wide below in all her glory.

It’s glorious to Arthur, at any rate. He’s partial to things like good food, good wine, and good conversation, and Paris in 1889 offers him all of these. Merlin disagrees; Merlin likes to rant about the ills of materialism and the degradation of civilisation, yet - as Arthur likes to point out - he continues to live in the midst of it.

But Merlin is an oddity in so many ways that only fate could have fashioned him into such an inexplicably pleasing whole. His manners are awkward but charming; he obviously knows the rules of polite society, but chooses to follow or neglect them at will. His suits - he appears to have only two - are clearly relics from an earlier decade, likely purchased the moment Merlin’s gangly limbs had stopped growing, but Arthur would be secretly sorry to see him wear any other. 

And his eyes.... Merlin’s eyes are golden like a night-bird's, and Arthur wonders if the world looks different through them: if energy streaks in bright currents through the air, if shadows gather in true, heart-stopping ways, if the stillness of sleep is indistinguishable from death.

"May I wake you whenever I wish?" Merlin had asked the question on their first night together, twined round Arthur in the moonlight, the coverlet of his narrow bed pushed down to their feet.

"Some of us have actual commitments during the daylight hours," Arthur had said, eyebrows raised, but Merlin's golden eyes had been so troubled that Arthur had been struck with regret. Merlin had jerked his chin away, preventing Arthur from studying his expression further, but his hands had clenched against Arthur’s back in a manner that spoke of instinctive defence against loss. He’d wondered, then, what Merlin had already lost in his life; something so cutting and deep that it bled inside him still, even if the wound had long healed. "Yes," Arthur had said, softly. "Yes."

Now Arthur's nights belong to Merlin. It rests in Merlin's hands whether Arthur wakes or sleeps, and in that he has found a strange, unexpected peace.

Sometimes he wakes from Merlin's lips on his neck alone. He believes Merlin begins there each time, that Merlin spends long moments nestled beneath Arthur's jaw, feeling the pulse of Arthur's blood against his cheek, strong and true. But Arthur doesn't know. More often he wakes with Merlin's head on his stomach, Merlin's lips at the tip of his shaft. Sometimes licking, sometimes sucking, sometimes simply pressed in a lingering kiss.

Merlin's long, nimble fingers are heaven on Arthur's cock. When he mouths the head, he pumps his hand in a measured pace, and even if, startled into wakefulness, Arthur twitches and bucks, Merlin refuses to alter it. He pulls, and the tide builds slowly, so slowly, as if the world could turn and the century could end and Merlin would still be here, devoted to this, to Arthur.

Merlin's lips are a soft, inviting sin, one he commits in his own time, his own way. He hums happily when Arthur's shaft pulses as it swells, and Arthur often swats at Merlin's head in response, because by then Arthur is _ready_ , he wants to be taken deep. Of course Merlin ignores him whenever he chooses, but when he does part his lips enough to let Arthur all the way in, the heat of him is unimaginably perfect, the pace still unyielding.

It's baffling. Merlin is hardly the height of discipline in any other matter, yet he keeps to this night after night while his own cock is hard and insistent against Arthur's hip or thigh, never rutting down, never taking a hand to himself. He leaves that to Arthur, and it's a duty Arthur takes seriously indeed.

On that very first night Merlin had wakened Arthur by calling his name, over and over, and Arthur had heard him long before he could respond. Merlin was hopeful, he was frantic, he was tearful, he was resigned, and to Arthur he was an echo through deep water, near yet far, in reach only if Arthur could break the surface.

"Not that way, please," Arthur had said, sitting upright in bed, palm pressed to his chest, gasping. "Wake me when you will, but not with your voice. It took too long."

"Yes," Merlin had said, slotting his hand over Arthur's, gripping tight, wet tracks on his cheeks. "Yes, it certainly did."

**71.**

It happened every time Arthur bottomed, and that was more often than not, because Merlin was just as cheeky in bed as he was out of it.

It would start as a gentle rocking, no more distinguishable than if Merlin were simply thrusting too hard and causing the bedframe to scrape back and forth across the stone floor. And then, slowly but surely, Merlin would go faster, slam deeper into Arthur so that Arthur moaned with pleasure and the bed itself would start hovering in the air.

“Merlin, it’s-it’s happening aga—oh fuck, right there, _yes_.”

Merlin grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s hair and yanked the king’s head back. He used his grip as leverage to keep fucking hard into Arthur’s perfect arse.

“Can’t…stop,” Merlin breathed hoarsely. The pace he was setting was brutal, the sound of their skin loud between their chorus of sighs and moans.

“One of these days you’ll…break it.”

Merlin snapped his hips forward so hard Arthur’s elbows bent and his arms gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto his stomach and Merlin released his hair to hold himself up and keep pounding into him.

“I don’t think it’s the bed you should be worried about breaking…sire,” Merlin chuckled in Arthur’s ear. He slid his arm under Arthur’s neck and positioned it in the crook of his elbow. He tightened the pressure until Arthur’s throat was moderately restricted in a chokehold.

Arthur swallowed with difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbing against where Merlin’s forearm pressed against it, and a huff of air was expelled when Merlin squeezed just the tiniest bit. Arthur’s cock twitched where it was caught between his stomach and the bed.

“Ah, Arthur, you’re so—so tight.”

Arthur felt it. He felt how the walls of his stretched hole hugged Merlin’s cock like a second skin. He felt how Merlin impaled him deep like a spear. He felt how Merlin’s long cock finally got the angle just right and—

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped, “fuck, Merlin, _Merlin_ —“

“Yes, yes, Arthur.” Merlin dug his teeth into Arthur’s shoulder to keep from moaning too loudly. He slowed his hips but kept the force consistent until he could speak properly again. “Want to…want to fuck you loose…keep you open with my fingers while you sleep and fuck you again…make you wake up with my seed dripping down your thighs.”

“Oh gods,” Arthur moaned. He squeezed his eyes shut and he could already imagine it, raised his arse higher to take what Merlin had to give.

Merlin hummed in approval and tightened his hold around Arthur’s neck, stifling his breathing again. “Needy little king, aren’t you? Whatever would the citizens of Camelot think if they saw you now?” Merlin lifted his head so that his voice was right in Arthur’s ear, breath hot as it ghosted down his neck. “Open up, darling, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Arthur slowly blinked his eyes open and had trouble bringing things into focus at first. His vision was hazy with lust and he was seeing double. After a few seconds he realised what he was looking at was not his imagination.

“M-Merlin, the bed…” It had never levitated this high before and it was never an easy descent. “You have to—” But Merlin squeezed harder over Arthur’s throat and cut him off. Arthur’s face was deep red from the lack of oxygen, matching his swollen cock underneath him.

“Stop worrying about the stupid bed, Arthur,” Merlin said, and Arthur had honestly forgotten he’d even said anything about the bed he was so lost in the sensation of Merlin’s cock penetrating him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“You—You said you couldn’t control—“

“No, Arthur. Surely you know I’m powerful enough by now.” He nipped Arthur’s earlobe teasingly. “It’s like fucking on a cloud, yeah? When summer comes I’ll take you out and we’ll do it for real. I’ll fuck you right above everyone’s oblivious little heads, make the mighty King Arthur moan for my cock on a bed of nothing but air. I’ll summon a thunderstorm to drown out your cries and then every time it rains, you’ll think of me fucking you. You won’t be able to hear thunder without getting hard ever again.”

Arthur’s body tensed as he climaxed and Merlin’s hand was suddenly over Arthur’s mouth muffling his screams.

**72.**

When Arthur leaves Camelot on an urgent, secretive mission, bringing only Merlin with him, Gwen fills with panic. The last time he did this, he’d brought Uther’s ghost down on them all, and it was only by luck and Merlin’s concerned heart that Gwen had made it out alive. She still can’t bear to be alone. The silence of her empty chambers at night suffocates her, makes her feel vulnerable and unwell, and she can’t quite bring herself to snuff out the candles.

She finds herself outside the door to Leon’s chambers, wondering to herself why she hasn’t gone to Elyan, why her feet know the path to Leon’s door at all. It takes a long moment for Leon to answer her knock, but when the door swings open, his groggy confusion splits into a smile.

“My lady,” Leon says, opening the door wider. “How can I be of service?”

Leon doesn’t prod, just lets Gwen inside and tidies the bed for her.

“Please, it’s your bed,” Gwen says. “I’ve slept on many floors in my life.”

“And I have not slept on enough,” Leon responds, already lying down on the floor. “My bed is the least I can offer my queen.”

It makes Gwen’s insides feel hot. She slips into Leon’s bed, resting her head gingerly on his pillow, and when his scent hits her, she realises that what she feels is desire. The promise in Leon’s words is imagined, but Gwen’s breathing goes fast and shallow anyway. She fists her fingers in his duvet, suddenly wired. It’s terrifying, this feeling, the desperate thrill.

Leon breathes slowly, evenly, and Gwen tries to relax, hopes Leon’s sleep will be contagious. She almost gets there, is on the verge of unconsciousness when the bed dips behind her. It feels like her heart stops, like the room is filled with cold water that’s drowning her and her only salvation is the hot press of Leon against her back, his broad hand curling around her hip, fingers roving covetously over the silk of her nightgown.

“Leon?” she whispers, gasps, but he doesn’t respond. She turns her head and his eyes are closed. He’s so lovely like this, face sleep-soft and untrained.

“Are you all right?” she asks, but he makes no sign of having heard her, and Gwen realises he’s still asleep. She should wake him, should slide out of the bed and shake his shoulder, or perhaps just leave, go find Elyan after all. But Leon’s hands are bunching in her skirt, lifting it, and she shifts to give him access, hot with warring shame and desire. His hand slides over her thigh, and even just that touch sets her quivering, her chest inflamed with want for him.

Gwen grinds back against him, savouring the evidence of his arousal. Her movements slip Leon’s shift up until his bare cock is rubbing hard against her arse. It’s easy to slide up his body and angle herself back, to catch his prick against where she’s wet and aching, to slide down and feel herself filled. His arms wrap around her as she fucks back onto him, her skin on fire where he touches her.

When Leon goes still, Gwen realises he must have awoken. He tries to pull away, and instead of letting him, instead of pretending that she, too, had been sleeping, she grabs his hand and shoves it down against her, rubs his thumb over her clit and slides his fingers against where he’s inside her. He groans and rubs her cunt, makes a vee around her opening, and she covers his hand with hers, both of them feeling his cock as he fucks into her, conscious and calculated.

It’s better like this, with Leon awake and choosing this, choosing to fuck his queen, both their hands sloppy and touching her, his sliding across her full lips, spreading her wetness and making her feel like a desperate, sopping mess for him. He fucks her steadily and lets her rub her clit like he knows she’s better at it. It makes her want to fuck him again, and she says so.

His arm is strong around her chest, holding her tight, and she comes, Leon’s lips on her shoulder. He doesn’t stop until she does, until she pulls off and tells him to touch himself, to look at her while he does it.

Even as he streaks his chest with come, Leon never stops looking at Gwen’s eyes.

**73.**

Arthur usually avoided his neighbor's door without his son in tow, but tonight he had no choice. When Percival opened up wearing only a pair of low-slung sweats that left little to the imagination--especially Arthur's overactive one--he had to shove his hands into his armpits to keep from throwing the object of his fantasies to the floor and riding him the way he was meant to be.

"Arthur." Percival glanced around, clearly looking for the usual reason Arthur stopped by. "Where's Cal?"

"In bed. But not asleep which is why I'm here."

Percival cocked his head and waited for clarification. As one of the few people three-year-old Callum wasn't afraid of, he watched Arthur's son any time necessary, which, with the demands Uther made on Arthur's social life, was probably too often.

"I got that book you were reading to him. The one that put him right out."

"And?"

"It's not working."

"But it always works."

"Cal says it's not the same."

"You got the right one?"

"Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book, right?"

"That's it."

"It played all the way through--"

"Wait. Played? Didn't you read it to him?"

Arthur's face went hot. "No, I bought the app."

Percival grinned, though he had the grace to hide it quickly. "Hang on."

Arthur loitered in the hall as Percival disappeared into his flat, emerging a few seconds later with the well-worn copy he always brought with him when he babysat. Without waiting, he brushed past and went straight to Arthur's door, giving Arthur the perfect view of his well-muscled back. 

Arthur's throat went dry. The only part better than the broad shoulders were the tiny dimples where his ass began. He was so screwed.

He followed Percival to Cal's room, but stayed in the doorway as the pair greeted each other. The two had a rapport unmatched by anyone else, which made it even harder for Arthur to ignore his attraction to his gorgeous neighbor. Leaning against the jamb, he listened as Percival began reading, his voice as hypnotic as the rhythm of the words.

When Percival softly closed the book, Arthur's eyelids were heavy. Cal was fast asleep, too.

"He doesn't want an app," Percival whispered. "He wants--"

Arthur's reaction time had been dulled by his response to Percival's reading. He failed to lift his gaze in time when Percival turned around.

The air went heavy between them. Every inch of Arthur's skin felt like it was on fire, embarrassment warring with desire. When Percival took a step closer, Arthur jerked back, stumbling into the corridor and out of Percival's sight.

"Thanks for the help," he said, nearly running for the front door. "Next time--"

A strong hand clamped around his shoulder, shoving him gently into the wall. Percival crowded in, the thickening line of his erection pushing against Arthur's back.

"All you ever have to do is ask." Percival's warm breath tickled across Arthur's ear. "I'd do anything for you, Arthur."

A shudder went through him. The problem with asking was he wanted everything. That meant all he could say was, "Please."

Percival groaned. His arms slid around Arthur's body, one snaking down to shove its way into his jeans to find his cock, the other looping around Arthur's chin to tilt his head back so Percival could seal their mouths together.

His senses overloaded. Arthur squirmed, trying to gain some control, get more contact, anything really, but Percival held him in place, his kisses unrelenting, the tight curl around Arthur's cock more so. Though his balls were already tight from how aroused he'd been from the second Percival opened his door, each stroke pulled them closer and harder, condensing the world into just their flesh, their breaths, the intoxicating scent of Percival's skin.

Arthur came with a shout, one Percival mercifully muffled with his mouth. After the first shot, Percival slid his hand up to cup the tip of Arthur's cock, catching the come in the palm as he held Arthur tight. 

Arthur almost came a second time when Percival pulled his hand free and licked it clean.

"I hope--"

"Can I--"

They stopped at the same time and chuckled. Percival eased his hold around Arthur to give him room to turn around. "You first."

"I was hoping you'd stick around. What were you going to ask?"

"If I could stay."

Arthur couldn't resist. "It looks like we're on the same page, then."

Percival grinned, and Arthur's heart did a flipflop. "My favorite book."

Arthur's, too.

**74.**

Merlin likes pretty boys.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them in his bed, sleeping.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed. 

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside because it makes him come so hard.

-

Merlin likes Arthur.

He’s Arthur’s nanny—Arthur’s nanny, Arthur, who’s fifteen years old and especially pretty when he frowns after his daddy’s leaving for the weekend, again. Merlin leaves lollipops on the kitchen counter of his flat, knowing Arthur’ll sneak one between his red puffy lips and suck it empty like he’s going to suck Merlin empty, later, when he won’t know. It makes Merlin’s trousers go tight as he cooks dinner for Arthur, who’s sitting at the dinner table with a cute glower on his handsome face. The pills are pretty like Arthur’s pretty—when he swallows them, unconsciously, like he’s going to swallow Merlin later, unconsciously. They make him drowsy, make him slur his words, make him fall asleep on Merlin’s couch while they’re watching footie. 

Merlin shifts Arthur’s face into his lap and strokes the fair wispy hair, smiles indulgently as Arthur pushes his nose into his crotch, because when Arthur’s sleeping he’s dreaming of daddy; daddy, who’s never there.

“Daddy,” he’s mumbling, his voice so young, so vulnerable still it makes Merlin’s chest ache. So Merlin scoops him up and drags him over to his bed. Lays him down on it and spreads his arms like an angel’s wings; takes off his trousers and underwear and pushes his legs apart to lick at his plump butt, the way his daddy never does. Merlin does, and Arthur loves Merlin’s goodnight kisses: he’s making little snuffling noses when Merlin kisses the soft, innocent skin of his cheeks, slurs “daddy, daddy,” while Merlin’s lapping his tender hole open, the dusk giving way to rose, rose giving way to pink and _hot_ and _tight_ around Merlin’s tongue.

“Don’t go, daddy,” Arthur’s whimpering into Merlin’s pillow, crying the sort of fat, childish tears he won’t cry when he’s awake. Merlin’s chest tightens and he zips open his flies and slicks his dick with spit and goes to still Arthur’s need; he feeds his love into Arthur, slow, slow and lasting with every bit of his dick, because it needs to be enough to make Arthur go the entire week without him until next weekend, when he can have him again his bed.

Arthur’s sweet around him, holding him the way Merlin knows Arthur wishes his daddy would’ve done, and Merlin does instead, pumps Arthur full with himself while Arthur’s whispering “daddy, daddy,” still, and Merlin replies with a kiss, the goodbye kiss daddy’s never given Arthur—pries Arthur’s full, soft lips apart to push his tongue inside and lick at Arthur’s tongue, wet and thick and unmoving inside.

“Daddy’s here,” Merlin’s saying back, “daddy’s here,” stupidly, like he’s stupid for Arthur, stupid for his innocent, untouched skin while he’s moving his hips in eager, wonderful little jerks, spilling himself inside to the sound of Arthur’s sobbing.

**75.**

Orgasm tugged at Arthur’s balls as he bent Merlin nearly in half. He fought it off and drove deeper into Merlin’s arse. Merlin always loved this position. “So much easier,” Arthur panted, “without you flailing around and kicking me in the head.”

Rescuing the sleeping princess in the tower had been all in a day’s work for questing king and trusty warlock. Finding out that her magical sleep was actually a bit of sex play with her lover had been a touch awkward, but they’d all had a good laugh—especially when Merlin popped a huge erection in the middle of her explanation.

Merlin hadn’t been the least bit embarrassed. He’d pulled the Lady Aurora aside and questioned her at length about the spell they’d used. It might have been professional curiosity, but Arthur had not been surprised when Merlin had appeared in Arthur’s chambers with a fresh bottle of oil and a gleam in his eye.

Afterward, Merlin described the experience with a dreamy look: the way the pleasure had suffused his sleeping mind, the way Arthur’s voice had seemed to come from inside him, the way his climax propelled him into a deeper bliss than his conscious mind could experience. 

Arthur loved it as well. He loved Merlin’s energy in bed, but the pliancy of his sleeping body (in Arthur’s arms, around Arthur’s cock) cried out to be fucked hard. A surge of possessive tenderness made him gather Merlin closer so Merlin’s swollen cock bounced between his belly and thighs with every thrust.

“Everything feels so good right now, doesn’t it? Fuck, Merlin.” He couldn’t take any more. He drove in once more, as deep as he could, and added his heat to Merlin’s sleep-warm body.

Merlin’s cock, the only part of him that physically responded during these sessions, was rigid and hot when Arthur took it in his mouth a moment later. A few strong sucks finished the job.

Arthur stretched with satisfaction before he rose and dressed. He smoothed Merlin’s sleep shirt down over his torso; he left Merlin’s bottom half bare under the covers as he tucked them around Merlin’s shoulders. 

“Lazybones,” he said fondly and kissed Merlin’s damp forehead. Merlin insisted on having the rest of day to enjoy the aftershocks that rippled through his dreams, letting him drift in a sea of constant pleasure.

Arthur, on the other hand, was expected in council.

***  
“Are you sure Merlin’s all right?” Guinevere asked as council ended. “This is the fourth time this month that he’s been too ill to attend council.”

“He’s fine,” Arthur replied. “I left him sleeping like a baby.” 

“We should check on him,” said Morgana, as much as thorn in Arthur’s side as ever.

“Yes,” Lancelot agreed, brow creasing in concern. He was echoed by the rest of Arthur’s overly chivalrous knights, who were fond of the king’s paramour and apparently did not trust the king to take care of him.

“You can’t even take care of yourself,” Morgana pointed out. “You need Merlin for that.”

Arthur could hardly argue that point.

***

“See, there he is, snoozing away. Go, before you wake him.”

“We won’t disturb him.” Gwen was already pushing past him. “Oh, poor Merlin. I think he’s running a fever.”

“He does look rather flushed,” Leon agreed as they gathered at Merlin’s bedside. “You should get these covers off him.”

“No!” Arthur said, because odds were high that Merlin was sporting a good, strong erection. “He wanted the covers on. For his recovery.”

They continued fussing over Merlin’s condition. When Gwen brushed the back of her hand over Merlin’s brow, Arthur had to move to the other side of the bed to hide his own sudden arousal. 

All their friends stood over Merlin, touching him, and not a single one of them realized that Merlin was happily bespelled. None of them could guess that Merlin’s flush came from the pleasure he was still enjoying in his sleep; that under the covers he still had Arthur’s seed wet on his naked thighs.

He tried to strangle the moan in his throat, but enough of it got out to draw Gwen’s attention. “Arthur? Oh, you look feverish yourself. Are you coming down with whatever Merlin has?”

“Undoubtedly,” he said. “You’d all better go before you catch it.”

As soon as he barred the door behind them, he was stripping off his clothes. He pulled the covers back and drank in the sight of Merlin’s bare limbs and swollen cock. 

Arthur parted Merlin’s thighs and climbed between them. He bent to kiss Merlin’s slack lips. “See, I do take care of you,” he whispered and pushed inside Merlin again.

**76.**

It takes Arthur an hour to convince them, and he's excruciatingly aware of every second.

Gaius talks about the danger, about the drugs. Morgana crosses her arms and tells him he's being a sentimental idiot. Gwen looks torn, glancing at where Merlin still lies, sleeping.

Arthur grabs the pill from Gaius's hand and swallows it dry, then looks at them each in turn. "I have to save him," he says. "I need your help."

Gwen caves first, and takes a pill for herself. Morgana swears violently but doesn't resist as Gaius starts hooking up the wires.

*

Gaius's dream is his workshop, filled with the drugs and sedatives of his profession, clean and neat as a pin, all bright chrome and slick glass. Morgana gives him a look that makes him glower and snap, "Let's see you do better on short notice."

*

Merlin's should have been next. Not having him here, anticipating Arthur's every need before he's even aware of it, makes this whole business seem wrong. It sends panic clawing down Arthur's throat.

Morgana's dream is dark and full of strangers who wander by and glare at Arthur. For an instant, Arthur thinks they're projections, that they'll attack and force Arthur out of the dream and that'll be more time lost, when every second is precious.

They don't, though. They just glare, and Arthur realizes that they're manifestations of Morgana's disapproval. He sighs at her, then turns to Gwen.

"I'm ready." Her voice is thin, but strong. She tightens her jaw and shows no fear. "Let's go."

*

Gwen's the architect, and it's no surprise that her dream's intricately detailed, populated with gothic arches that soar high overhead, too tall and spindly for real-world physics. She takes her title literally, and it's the sort of place Arthur could lose himself in for a week, just exploring.

Arthur doesn't have time for it, but Gwen knows. She's there the moment he drops into the dream, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him around. "One more," she says. This time, her words tremble. She looks at Arthur like she's never going to see him again.

He can't even reassure her, because he knows she might be right. But she knows that he has to try.

*

Arthur doesn't know what Limbo looked like before Merlin dropped into it, but in time he's been there ( _years,_ a traitorous voice whispers, _decades, how long could he—_ ) he has transformed it. Now it's a miasma of swirling gold, images of dragons and other beasts forming out of the mist.

Arthur finds Merlin at the center of it, where the currents whip around him like a storm. He looks wild, unearthly. When Arthur steps up to him, Merlin stares, but doesn't seem to see him.

"Arthur." It's a sigh. Merlin's voice is distant, like he's somehow fallen even farther than this. "I dreamed you before. I'm dreaming you now."

" _No._ " Not even the storm can keep Arthur back now. He catches Merlin's face in his hands, kisses him desperately. The sound Merlin makes against his mouth is a broken cry. "You're not. I'm here. I don't know how long it's been—"

"Years," Merlin says dreamily. "Years and years and years."

He's lost his mind, Arthur thinks, and he wants to kill Gaius and Gwen and Morgana for refusing as long as they did. He's been down here alone for so long, and he's lost his mind.

Arthur will help him find it again. He found him here, didn't he?

"I like this dream," Merlin sighs against his mouth. "Don't go this time, Arthur. Don't go again."

"I won't," Arthur promises. It seems only natural when Merlin pulls him down and stretches Arthur on his back beneath him. Merlin kisses his neck and works his hands under Arthur's clothes. He wriggles down and takes Arthur's prick into his mouth before he's even fully hard.

The gold swirls around them in patterns that pulse and echo Arthur's stuttering heartbeat. Arthur feels weightless, floating, losing his mind himself as he cups Merlin's head and lets him take whatever he needs. He's waited so long, how could Arthur deny him?

He doesn't know when the kick will come. Seconds for them could be days here, or longer. Perhaps they'll have years here together, in the minutes it takes the others to give their kicks.

It doesn't matter. Arthur can wait. However long it takes, at least this time they'll have each other. And he'll make sure they make it back together.


	8. Group D (no warnings)

**77.**  


[](http://imgur.com/fbI50GU)

**78.**  


[](http://imgur.com/IFP6iTt)

**79.**  


**Good Morning, Arthur**

Arthur likes it best in the morning, when he first awakes, when Merlin's magic is just starting to get a little frisky.

[](http://imgur.com/Vh5GFtv)

**80.**  


**Summary:** Breakfast in bed. ..........What.

[](http://imgur.com/g2OzxMp)

**81.**  


[](http://imgur.com/bvsEzve)

**82.**  


[](http://imgur.com/iA21BcM)

**83.**  


[](http://imgur.com/EZxtcj0)

**84.**  


[](http://imgur.com/XDliP5C)

**85.**  


[](http://imgur.com/HsCRYt6)

**86.**  


[](http://imgur.com/KDyVozK)

**87.**

Dreams always beat reality.

[](http://imgur.com/vBvOs5Z)


End file.
